


(not) alone in a room

by spikeymarshmallows



Series: look at me when i hurt you [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kinda..., Light Angst, M/M, Recovery, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Soft Diego Hargreeves, Substance Abuse, canon-typical trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikeymarshmallows/pseuds/spikeymarshmallows
Summary: It had been three weeks. Three weeks of bullshit, aching sobriety, and he'd still been unable to conjure him. Ben was there. Countless ghosts had visited him, both in his conscious and unconscious state. But the one ghost he really wanted to see? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.Klaus was ready to give up.Until Diego forced him out of bed. This was his last chance.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: look at me when i hurt you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595641
Comments: 112
Kudos: 424





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to emptydistractions for being persistently amazing and editing the heck out of my stuff. 
> 
> There are touches of angst in this, but overall it's quite light! I'd say the worst of the angst are the first few scenes :) Ummm, and we're like.... handwaving a bunch of stuff, particularly the rehab stuff. This is very much an inaccurate portrayal of recovery from substance abuse! We're not here for an accurate portrayal of rehab (I think); we're here for these two idiots to fall in love over and over and over again. 
> 
> The fic is finished. I'll post it... you know, every few days or once a week, depending on spoons etc. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

They'd managed to save the world. _How_ they'd managed still remained a question, but… They'd done it. And now that they weren't fighting tooth and nail for survival of the planet, the dust was allowed to settle.

'Settle' was putting it lightly for Klaus. It felt like the world was crumbling around him, that the dust was choking him constantly, and nothing would ever be the same again.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks of bullshit, aching sobriety, and he'd still been unable to conjure him. Ben was there. Countless ghosts had visited him, both in his conscious and unconscious state. But the one ghost he really wanted to see? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Klaus was ready to give up.

He stared at the space on the wall at the edge of his bed, able to make out tiny cracks in the paint despite the low light of the room. The cracks were shifting; they had been for a while.

Existence really was a bore. He'd known that for years, but now he really knew it. Everything felt grey, tinged with blue, and like it was moving through honey, only far less enjoyable.

He was just so tired.

His bedroom door slammed open with such force that Klaus was expecting that a new, more obvious crack to rip through the plaster. He didn't know; he was too tired to even jump or to turn around and inspect the damage.

"Get up," Diego ordered from behind, kicking the wooden post at the end of his bed.

"No."

"This isn't a negotiation, Klaus. Get up. It's been weeks and you're still in bed."

"I'm tired."

"We're all tired, Klaus. Being tired is part of being an adult."

"Well, I've decided to regress. It makes sense, doesn't it? I'm lying here in my childhood bedroom. Regression. Thank you for the offer, but I've decided that adulthood is not for me."

Diego yanked the blankets Klaus had pulled up to his chin off of him. It caught Klaus by surprise; he didn't even stand a chance at grabbing them before it happened. As soon as Klaus' bare skin was exposed to the cool air of his bedroom, he shivered. He still didn't turn around to face Diego, just curled up tighter to try and keep himself warm. Diego didn't seem to give a shit and was rummaging around in Klaus' room.

"If you want the drugs, they're already gone," Klaus told him tiredly.

Diego snorted.

Klaus felt something land on him. He groped for it and found his favourite lace-up pants and a chunky sweater.

"Get dressed loser, we're going shopping," Diego told him, stomping towards the door. "You have five minutes. If you're not in the hallway by then, I'm coming back in and dressing you myself." He slammed the door behind him.

Klaus whined. "Does this mean you finally watched Mean Girls?" he shouted at the door.

He rolled over onto his back. He didn't want to get dressed. He just wanted to lie here, and mope, and mourn, and maybe remain sober, and just generally be miserable in peace.

But he didn't trust that Diego wouldn't come in and force him into his clothes either. He groaned, finally sitting up. He couldn't just wear the sweater without a tank top underneath it, so he stumbled around seeking out a tank to wear. Walking felt unfamiliar, even though Klaus did leave the bed a few times a day to go to the bathroom and have his usual 3am depression bath.

Eventually he found something he was happier to wear and dragged the clothes on. He'd lost weight. The pants were a little looser on him than he would have liked.

"I just want you to know," Klaus announced grouchily as he stepped into the hallway, "that just because I put on clothes does not mean I in any way consent to being dragged from my pit of despair."

"Your complaint has been noted and filed with the appropriate department," Diego said drily. He was leaning on the wall, arms folded around his chest and ankles crossed.

"Is the 'appropriate department' really just another word for 'shredding machine'?" he asked sadly.

"Sure is, buddy." Diego grinned as he stood up properly and slung an arm around Klaus' shoulder. "C'mon, it's a beautiful day. Let's go get waffles. Everyone likes waffles."

"I'm not hungry." Klaus wasn't just being argumentative (although he was being that too, on principle alone). He really wasn't hungry. Sobriety. Grief. None of it did much to help his appetite.

"Does anyone ever  _ need _ to be hungry for waffles?"

"I suppose not," Klaus conceded, allowing himself to be led through the house.

Diego put him into the car like he was someone he’d arrested at the scene of the crime, and maybe if Klaus felt a little less like he was falling apart at the seams, he'd have enjoyed the manhandling. As things were, it barely registered. The last time he'd been in this car, he'd had a bottle of vodka and had been rightfully drinking himself numb. Now, he didn't need the vodka for the numbness, but Christ, it would have helped him feel a little better.

They drove in silence; Diego didn’t even deign to put the radio on to fill the emptiness. Diego took them to a diner that they frequently visited, if you could call a handful of times in the past ten years 'frequent'. As far as Klaus knew, Diego and he were the only two of their siblings that had kept in any semblance of contact over the years. It hadn't been intentional so much as Klaus had a way of finding trouble, and Diego specifically sought out trouble so that he could fight it..

Diego wasn't rich by any stretch of the imagination, but he always seemed to have enough money to take Klaus somewhere to eat, usually a diner just like the one they were trudging into. They'd always talk late into the night, Klaus sometimes crashing in Diego's bed because his tiny sofa was so small that Klaus' long torso filled most of it. It sometimes felt like those nights in the academy, when Klaus' night terrors woke Diego (and likely their other siblings). Diego would sneak into his room, climb under the covers beside him and talk to him about dumb shit like a new knife trick he'd learned, or what would happen if the moon exploded, filling the silence until Klaus was able to sleep again.

And then the next day Klaus would leave and they'd go back to their lives, never sure when they'd encounter the other again.

Klaus stared blankly at the menu, trying to get his eyes to focus, trying to find enough will inside to want to eat.

He settled on waffles in the end, as if there were any argument. Ben had popped up beside him, pleased that Klaus had finally left his bedroom. Klaus didn't even try to listen to him.

Klaus didn't care. He was tired. Every movement felt difficult, as if his body weren't his own. They ordered their food. Diego spun the dull knife from their table as if it were one of his own lethal blades.

"So, are we going to talk about what's wrong?" Diego asked after a long silence.

"Hadn't planned on it, no," Klaus sighed, voice muffled where his face was tucked into his elbow.

"Oh, sorry, did that sound too much like a question? Let me rephrase it: tell me what's wrong."

"You know, you're really not as intimidating as you like to think you are with that butter knife," Klaus told him wearily.

Diego raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, nor did he stop spinning the knife.

Klaus shrugged. "You know what's wrong," he said finally. There was little point in rehashing it. Dave was dead. Klaus couldn't summon him, no matter how painfully sober he was. The world might not have been ending, but would it really have been that bad if it had?

Diego didn't say anything. That was weird. Diego came across as the Strong and Stoic (™) type, but he usually had a retort for everything.  


"Are you going to be staying at the Academy much longer?" Diego asked halfway through his burger. Klaus was barely picking at his waffles. They tasted like sawdust in his mouth, getting stuck in his throat no matter how much water he sipped.

Klaus shrugged. "Better than a halfway house, I suppose."

The corners of Diego's mouth tightened.

"Are you sure staying there is doing you any good?"

Klaus shrugged. "Not like it can get much worse." It wasn't like he had somewhere else to go. At least at the Academy he had a warm, dry bed, and Grace brought him food twice a day. And he had his bathtub, even if he barely put it to use anymore.

Diego put his burger back down. He looked as if he was struggling with the same sawdust feeling in his mouth too. He wiped his hands on a napkin and pulled a face.

"Look, I get it, man. I lost someone too."

"And here we go," Klaus huffed, no longer keen on pretending to pick at his food. He dropped his fork, already mentally preparing to stomp out of the diner.

"I get it. It sucks. It hurts. A lot."

A cold and bitter rage started to churn in Klaus' gut.

"But if he was anything like you said, would he really want you wasting away like this? If he was as special as you’ve made him out to be, he wouldn't want to see you like this."

As quickly as it had appeared, the rage vanished, a vacuum left in its space. Klaus sagged. Part of him was still angry, but weariness was winning yet again. Diego was right; Dave wouldn't have wanted to see Klaus like this. But then, if Dave hadn't wanted to see him like this, he shouldn't have gone and left Klaus.

"Yeah, I know." Klaus sighed, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

Diego was looking at him with far more tenderness than Klaus was used to, both from Diego or from anyone at all, really.

Klaus squirmed in his seat, wishing he could get the soft eyes off him, but Diego had always been painfully good at staring him down.

"If there's any way I can help, you'll let me know, okay?" This time, Klaus could hear that it wasn't really a question despite the phrasing.

Klaus picked up his fork again, knowing that they wouldn't be leaving until he'd eaten substantially more. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "You'll be the first to know if I figure it out, okay?"

The problem was, Klaus wasn't sure if he'd ever figure it out.

*

Less than a week later, Klaus relapsed. It wasn't really anything to do with his conversation with Diego. He wanted to blame Diego anyway, because it was easier than blaming himself. Diego had wanted him to get out of bed, and Klaus had done it. He'd gotten out of bed. He'd even ventured into the outside world.

From there, it had been a very quick and very slippery slope back to his dealer.

It had been 27 days, but hitting that 30 day mark had never meant much to him anyway. Nothing much mattered to him anymore, least of all sobriety. He couldn't even conjure Dave, so what was the point of this stupid exercise anyway? For perhaps the first time in his life, he found himself wishing that he'd tried to learn more about his powers when he was younger. But his father was an idiot, and Klaus likely wouldn't have learned anything of value.

Without the pills he'd been numb. With the pills, he felt for a few breaths like things might actually be okay again. For that moment of relief alone, it was worth it.

  
  
  


Diego finding him with his head in the toilet at 5am was less worth it.

This had all been a terrible mistake. It had felt like such a good idea at the time, despite Ben's sniping. Now his insides hurt, his chest and guts wracked with pain as he retched. He'd stopped bringing anything up a while ago and was now spitting out bile.

He heard the door to the bathroom open but he didn't have the energy to snipe at whoever dared enter.

"Jesus, Klaus, you're a fucking mess."

He didn't have it in him to argue. He heaved again and sank against the toilet, trying to prop his head up on his hands. Diego helpfully flushed the toilet from above him so that Klaus didn't have to deal with the smell of his own vomit; despite that, the smell lingered like it had taken permanent residence in his sinuses. His eyes and nose ran. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to bring himself back to some semblance of normality.

"You okay?" Diego asked slowly, with the same steadiness that Klaus was oh so familiar with.

"I'm having a lovely time, actually," Klaus said wetly, taking a deep breath in an effort to stave off the next wave of nausea. 

"Liar."

"Well, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," Klaus snapped before lurching forward again. Eventually, the nausea passed and he lay his face on the cool porcelain, too exhausted to find it disgusting. He was clammy and shaking as his insides clawed to get out. When he closed his eyes, the world swayed.

He felt something cool brush against his hand as Diego muttered ' _here_ '. A mug was pressed into his shaking hand. Klaus struggled to hold it. He felt warm hands wrap around his and help him steady the mug. Klaus took a cautious sip, fearful that anything more than that would send his stomach into a riot. When it didn't result in more hacking his guts up, he took another. It felt so good and cool in his mouth, but swallowing was like hellfire.

Diego was kneeling before him, and Klaus allowed himself to sink forward and rest his head on a warm shoulder. Klaus wanted to ask for a hug, for warmth to envelope him, but asking felt too hard.

He felt Diego set the mug to the side as Diego shifted him slightly. When he gave an involuntary whine of protest, Diego hushed him softly.

"Just getting more comfortable. In for a long night, I suspect." His tone was surprisingly gentle.

Klaus relaxed against him as best he could, desperate for the touch, for anything that felt like he wasn't being flayed alive inside. One of Diego's hands curled around the back of his neck and stroked there a few times before burying in his hair. It felt so nice that Klaus released an involuntary whimper.

He lurched up to the toilet a few more times, but gradually sank deeper into Diego's arms until he was curled over his lap. Diego kept stroking his face, his cheeks, his neck; with far more tenderness than Klaus knew he had in him. Diego had shown this side of him before, back when they were far younger. The memories felt so distant that Klaus sometimes wondered if they came from another life, another brother, a dream.

The hands on him were warm, a safe haven amongst a world of pain.

He didn't recall falling asleep.

  
  
  


Klaus woke still fully clothed which, technically speaking, shouldn't have been strange but Klaus was used to wearing substantially less when waking in a bed that wasn't his.

It took him longer than it should have to find his bearings. It was dark in the room, but when he looked around he realised that a blackout curtain hung just beside him. Windows above him were covered with thinner curtains that let some light filter through. His eyes felt bruised. When he swallowed, it felt like he was trying to ingest glass. His mouth tasted of vomit.

The small space gave away little about where he was, and he didn't recall much of the night before. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows until he was sitting. The world swayed a little. He breathed through it with nostrils that burned. His hand trembled slightly slightly as he drew back the curtain beside him.

He exhaled a sigh of relief. Diego's. He knew Diego's space, though he'd never been tucked away in the bed like this.

It took more effort than it should to drag his eyes around the room. It was empty. Klaus tried not to be too saddened by this. His skin felt wrong, his clothes filthy, and he really needed something familiar to cling to. As he sat there, world tilting just slightly if he moved his eyes too fast, memories from the night before (was it the night before? God, his head hurt and he couldn't remember what had happened) filtered through. He remembered… He remembered being sick. A lot. No wonder his eyes, nose, throat, chest, stomach hurt. All of him hurt. He remembered… Diego? Holding him on the bathroom floor. Right? Maybe? Maybe he'd imagined that. Maybe not. Maybe he'd been out on the streets and Diego had found him, brought him back here. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. It probably wouldn't be the last time either.

Moving with aching slowness, he eased himself back against Diego's pillows. Oh. Pillows. More than one. Diego was moving up in the world.

He was thirsty. Really thirsty. Would he be sick if he tried to drink anything? Would getting up be a terrible mistake? He could crawl over to the sink; he wasn't above that.

With more effort than he cared to think about, he pushed himself onto his side. He closed his eyes against the nausea and the throbbing in his head. When he managed to open them again, it felt like the heavens had opened on him and finally granted him a small mercy. Right before his eyes was a large glass filled with water. God bless Diego fuckin' Hargreeves.

He only spilled a little of the water as he drank. He knew it wasn't the wisest idea to toss it all back, that his stomach would probably protest, but he was just so fucking thirsty. He managed to drink half the glass, then nearly dropped it as he set it back beside the bed.

He flopped back into the pillows again and threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

The door opened quietly and Klaus peeled an eye open, watching as Diego entered the room, fresh from a shower by the looks of him. He had a towel slung over his shoulder and wore sweatpants and a long sleeved tee that fit tightly across his broad shoulders.

"Oh good, you're up," Diego said.

"Hardly," Klaus complained, not moving. "How… Why am I here? I don't remember…"

Diego hung his towel over the railing before going to the area that he classified as his kitchen. He opened the bar fridge and began to pull ingredients from it and lay them out on on the tiny table.

"Well, after vomiting probably half of your organs out, you decided you absolutely had to get out of the Academy, right then, that you needed a fix to help, that the ghosts were loudest there, etc, etc. So we compromised. I brought you back here." He paused before adding, "Fortunately for me, you passed right the fuck out about two minutes into the drive." He shrugged, closing the fridge. "Figured we were already on our way, and you didn't really want to be there, so I brought you back here." He glanced over at Klaus, eyes honing in on the glass. He grabbed it and refilled it before returning it to Klaus. Diego frowned for a long moment and went searching through one of the drawers near his bed to emerge with a colourful little packet. He tore it open and poured some garishly orange powder into Klaus' water, swirling the glass to mix it a little and setting it back down.

"I really hope that's some new form of MDMA," Klaus said lazily.

Diego snorted, heading back to his table. "It's Pedialyte. You vomited up most of the water you drank. You're lucky I didn't drag your dumb ass to the hospital."

"I'm not a child," Klaus pouted.

"Well then maybe it's time to stop acting like one," Diego snapped, with less of his usual waspishness.

Klaus pulled a face, eyeing the drink with wariness. He _hated_ Pedialyte. Reluctantly, he took the glass from its perch and sipped it, pulling a face at the weird salty sweetness.

The room was silent except for the sounds of Diego quickly cutting something on the table. The brick column blocked Klaus' view, but he didn't mind. He let his eyes fall closed between sips, trying to ease the pounding in his head.

He tried to align Diego's story with his own memories. He definitely remembered the bathroom floor. He didn't recall his desire to escape the Academy, but it did sound like him. It was nice to have a warm bed, a place to wallow in misery, but he hated being there. The ghosts _were_ loudest there, and even without the ghosts the house was full of memories, more bad than good.

Soon, the room was filled with the smell of frying chicken. There was the gentle sizzle of Diego’s cooking, but otherwise Diego was being unusually quiet.

Too many times Klaus had ended up here, curled under Diego's thin blankets, shaking and shivering as he withdrew. When that had passed, Diego would cook for him and start a rant about how Klaus needed to get sober, that he couldn't keep living like this. Klaus would always promise to get sober but that never lasted more than three days.

The fact that Diego wasn't lecturing him this time was concerning. Klaus swallowed around a lump in his throat. Maybe this had been the last straw. Maybe Diego had finally given up on him. His other siblings had a long time ago. Diego had always been a stubborn bastard though, trying to get him on the straight and narrow when nobody else cared.

Even when he'd had no-one else, even when he'd gone months and months without seeing him, Klaus had always had Diego. He'd always known that when things went sideways, he could always show up at Diego's doorstep. Despite his bitching, Diego had never turned him away.

Maybe Klaus had burned his final bridge. Maybe the end of the world had changed something in Diego. It had certainly changed something in Klaus.

"You eating?" Diego asked, projecting his voice across the small space.

Klaus pinched his thumb and forefinger together, indicating he'd eat a tiny bit. Diego nodded once and returned his attention to the food.

He brought two bowls and forks over, handing one to Klaus before he took a seat at the other end of the bed. Huh. This was unusual. Diego normally wouldn't let him eat in the bed, would make him at least stumble to the sofa where they'd eat side by side.

Everything was off and Klaus was decidedly unsettled.

Diego had made stir fry, a simple mix of chicken strips and vegetables. Klaus nibbled at his food, cautious with every mouthful that it might all come back up. Diego inhaled his before getting up for seconds. He went slowly through the second bowl.

It was silent. Klaus had never been good with silence because silence usually preceded the screaming. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably but Klaus was unable to tell if it was the withdrawal or the fear that this was the final time he'd see Diego.

Diego set his bowl gently on the floor, watching Klaus as he folded his arms across his chest and crossed his ankles. He stared, lips pressed together.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?" Klaus asked in a small voice.

"Not really," Diego said. His tone betrayed no emotion.

Eventually, Klaus put his own food down. He hadn't had much of an appetite to begin with and was feeling even less hunger now that he was being scrutinised.

Klaus sighed. "Look, can we just get it over with, please?" He at least hoped that Diego wouldn't send him back to the streets right away, that he'd maybe get another night in warmth and safety. He wasn't up to pulling his usual tricks to get a bed.

Diego gave him a tight smile and got to his feet. He walked over to the thick column where he usually kept his wallet and bandolier. He searched through something before returning to the bed, papers in hand.

Klaus was unable to stop himself from looking curiously.

Diego remained standing, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot before seeming to realise what he was doing and standing still. He tapped the papers with his hand and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

Klaus caught sight of the logo when the light hit the paper from the right angle. Oh.

Finally, Diego spoke, the words coming out slow and steady. "I know I usually tell you to go when you're ready. And that I can't actually force you. But I sure as hell am gonna try. You've got one more chance. Then I'm out." He handed over the pamphlet for one of the many rehabs that Klaus was familiar with.

Klaus swallowed around another lump in his throat. So the bridge hadn't been burnt, the final straw not drawn. But it was only by a margin.

"I'm not going to sit around watching you kill yourself, not anymore." Diego sighed as he sat down, much closer to Klaus this time. Something in his face softened. He reached out and put a hand on Klaus' shoulder. "I know it's not easy. But I have faith in you. And I'll be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not, okay?"

"Yeah but," Klaus began to protest, not sure which part to argue first.

Diego interrupted him, a soft smile on his face. "I haven't given up yet, have I?"

The lump in his throat got bigger despite Klaus' best attempts to swallow it down.

"Well, no," Klaus admitted, unable to meet Diego's eyes anymore.

Klaus' eyes were burning. He blinked rapidly, hoping he could prevent any tears from escaping. He was mostly successful.

"Can you do that, Klaus?"

Squeezing his eyes shut against the flood of tears that were very much falling now, he nodded. "Yeah." He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he could do this. But goddamnit, he had to try. This was the last chance he had, but maybe it was the best one.

  
  
  


In the end, Klaus couldn't stop himself from crying. After Klaus had agreed to go to rehab Diego shifted across the bed, leaning his back against the wall and bringing Klaus with him. Upon seeing the tears that kept threatening to escape Klaus' eyes, he pulled him into a hug, letting Klaus bury his face in the space between Diego's neck and shoulder.

Klaus didn't bawl like a baby, which was a very, _very_ real risk, but he did shed a few tears. Diego's shirt absorbed most of the tears; they could pretend it hadn’t happen that way.

It was nice being here, tucked under Diego's arm like this. It was also weirdly nice to have the power, the choice, taken away from him. Klaus had forever loathed the control their dear old father had had over them. But Klaus' life had been so out of control for so long that he surprised even himself by feeling weirdly peaceful with Diego simply telling him what was going to happen. 

Diego explained the clinic to him; voice soft, as if he talked too loudly he might break something. Klaus had been to this clinic a few times, and it was one of the nicer ones (apparently Allison was helping pay. That was nice of her). He would miss his family now that they'd somewhat reunited--would miss Diego particularly--but he supposed if they wanted to, they'd visit. Nobody had ever visited him at rehab before.

He was only half listening to Diego, until he tuned back in to the words 'intensive outpatient'.

"Wait, what?" Klaus sat up suddenly, regretting that decision instantly as it made the nausea he'd managed to subdue flare suddenly. He swayed and tried not to lose his balance. He sank back against the wall and Diego's arm again.

Diego rolled his eyes. "How long have you been tuned out for?"

"I dunno, man, like, I've been here before and I still feel like shit. I was just enjoying listening to the sound of your voice." Klaus waved offhandedly.

Klaus frowned and grabbed the pamphlet from Diego, squinting at the scrawl from one of the staff.

"Intensive outpatient?" Klaus repeated.

"Yeah. They don't have any beds at the moment, and when I got talking to one of the doctors…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've been through rehab how many times? A lot?"

"Yes, I believe that's the technical term for it." 

"And you do fine in rehab. It's the getting back out into the world you struggle with."

"Yeah," Klaus agreed, "because the world sucks balls."

"Right. Well, they think maybe intensive outpatient might be better because it keeps you reintegrated in society, or something. Besides, you've never really had support on the outside when you came out, so of course you relapsed first chance you could. But," he huffed, puffing his chest out seemingly unconsciously, "this time, I'll be here, ready to kick your ass at the first sign of it." He sank back against the wall, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "This time will be different," Diego promised.

Klaus tucked himself in closer to Diego, wrapping himself around one of Diego's arms like it was a teddy bear. The trapped arm rested against his thigh, warm through Klaus' skinny jeans. Klaus still felt weak and sick, although his body seemed to be taking a break from torturing him right then. The food and, loathe though he was to admit it, the Pedialyte, had helped more than he'd suspected. Despite that, he was still enjoying the contact and the warmth that seeped through his bones despite the cold brick wall against his back.

"So, boss, when do I start?" he asked, mouth pressed to Diego's shoulder.

"They're expecting you tomorrow. I'll drive you."

Klaus blinked rapidly. "That soon?"

Diego shrugged. "I figured you'd either agree, in which case the sooner the better, or you'd disappear into the night."

Klaus sighed dramatically. "I suppose it's not like I have anything better to do."

"They have activities too. You could learn to cook," Diego joked. Well, Klaus hoped he was joking. "If you're going to be crashing here, might as well make yourself useful."

Klaus pouted. He looked over the list of activities that they offered. He'd never done more than the mandatory therapy. He usually preferred to spend that time flirting with someone, or figuring out where he'd get his next fix once he left.

"I could learn to garden?" he offered hopefully, pointing at the pamphlet as if Diego couldn't read it for himself.

"Klaus, growing weed is in direct contrast to our goals here," he said flatly.

Klaus pouted some more. "Seriously? I'm not even allowed weed?"

"Nope," Diego said without hesitation.

"But it's legal now!"

"Nope."

"C'mon."

"Klaus." The way Diego said his name pulled Klaus up short.

He folded his arms over his chest and tried not to look as sullen as he felt. "Fine," he muttered eventually. "I can try cooking therapy."

Diego chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close. Klaus tried not to lean into it _too_ much.

"Eight weeks of cooking might do you some good. Wouldn't hurt you to get some meat on those bones."

"Eight weeks?!" Klaus cried, sitting up again suddenly and swaying as he forgot, once again, about moving slowly.

Diego raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that was one of the first things I said. C'mon Klaus, work with me here."

"I thought it was 30 days," he groaned.

"No, it's longer because you're not inpatient."

Klaus groaned some more.

"Hey, like you said, not like you've got anything better to do."

"This is the worst."

"That isn't even the best bit," Diego continued, grinning wolfishly.

"Oh goodie," Klaus said flatly.

"Every Wednesday they have family therapy."

"Nooooo," Klaus whined.

"Yep. Just be glad it's me coming, and not Allison or Five or something." He paused, eyes widening in realisation. "Actually, Allison seems to be on a Doing Sisterly Things streak, so she'll probably want to come along, actually."

Klaus buried his face in his hands. "It's not enough for you to take my drugs away, you have to add torture into the mix."

Diego patted his shoulder. "You'll live. Or that's the hope," he added with a grimace.

"Oof, way to ruin the mood," Klaus grumbled.

Diego pulled a face and hit Klaus in the face with the pamphlet.

"Ow, hey," Klaus said, even though it hadn't hurt. He held the pamphlet above his head and stared at the pretty meadow under a blue sky on the cover. It was ridiculous. Klaus had been there, and sure, the facility was nice, but it was still in the city. "Maybe," he began, dramatic as always, "they'll give me the skills to help me escape my terribly abusive brother."

Diego snorted. "Keep going like that and you can sleep on the floor."

Klaus grinned at him, probably the first genuine smile he'd had all day. When he looked at Diego properly, he realised Diego was staring at him with a strange look on his face.

Klaus _knew_ that look. Huh. So it was still like that, was it? Klaus smirked. Not tonight. He still felt rotten enough that standing felt like a chore.

Instead, he yawned. He'd done little more than sleep all day but he was still exhausted. His skin felt grimy, like he hadn’t showered in a week.

"Right. I'm going to go and have a shower," he announced, already regretting his decision to stand. He managed to right himself at the last second, before Diego could help steady him.

"Do you need help?" Diego asked warily.

"You're welcome to join me, if that's what you're asking," Klaus said with a wink.

Diego sat back on the bed and rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest again. "Yeah, I think you'll be fine."

Klaus smirked, before managing to find where Diego kept his spare towels and stumbling off to the showers.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came far too soon, and whilst Klaus felt less shit than the day before, he still was not operating at 100%. Diego had crawled into bed in the early hours of the morning, waking Klaus only briefly as he'd snuggled closer. Diego’s bed was only a double, and there was enough room for them both, but only just. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, given how close Diego usually ended up.

When the alarm went off, Klaus groaned. Diego did too.

"This is patently unfair," Klaus whined, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Speak for yourself. You weren't out until 3am."   


Klaus moved his arm back a little to squint at him. "Hey, it's your choice to be playing Oliver Queen, not mine."

Diego grumbled but didn't argue, pushing himself out of bed. He stumbled around as he made coffee. Klaus watched him from the bed, enjoying how the early morning sunlight filtered into the room and made Diego's skin glow. His hair was mussed and he looked exhausted, quite frankly, but he was still beautiful. He filled out those sweatpants wonderfully too; Klaus was only human, after all.

Diego seemed to feel his gaze and looked over at him. "What?"

"Just admiring the view."

Diego flipped him off but didn't say anything. Instead, he busied himself with the bar fridge, pulling out ingredients.

Klaus wrinkled his nose. "Don't you ever get sick of eggs?" he asked curiously. Not that he minded eggs, but Diego only seemed capable of about three dishes: eggs in various forms, stir fry, and toaster waffles. Diego didn't even _eat_ the toaster waffles! He just gave them to Klaus

"Not really, no."

"Not that I mind-," Klaus began before Diego cut him off.

"Look, until you start cooking, you'll eat what you're given. Just be grateful I'm not giving you protein shakes because that's what I usually have for breakfast."

Klaus grimaced. He could think of little worse. "Do you eat anything other than protein?"

Diego grinned and pulled his tank top up to reveal abs that Klaus wanted to lick every time he saw them. "These abs don't maintain themselves, baby."

It was almost a blessing that Ben popped up. Klaus let out a small yelp of surprise before cursing colourfully.

"Oh, hi," he said tiredly to Ben, once his heart rate had slowed. "Eggs are great," Klaus sighed at Diego. He definitely needed to learn how to cook.

"Eggs _are_ great," Ben commented. "I'm proud of you, Klaus."

"Shut up," Klaus huffed, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head on them.

"One day," Diego said, cracking the eggs into a bowl and whisking them before adding a dash of milk and cracked pepper, "that will get less weird. That day ain't today."

"Hi Diego," Ben said chirpily. It was unfair, Klaus thought to himself. Ghosts didn't need sleep. Small blessings of being dead, he supposed.

He'd almost fallen asleep on his knees when he felt Diego prod him with a bowl. He blinked blearily up at him, took the bowl with a quiet thanks.

"Um, where's…?" Diego trailed off, eyes scanning the bed.

Klaus waved his hand at Ben to move over. "Okay, you can sit now," Klaus said, nodding at the end of the bed.

Diego shook his head a little, but did so carefully.

"This is nice," Klaus crowed, leaning forward to steal some of Diego's coffee. Diego tried for about three seconds to stop him before sighing as he handed it over. "Even trio, all hanging out again." It reminded him of all of those years ago… It had always been Allison and Luther, Vanya and Five, and then Diego, Ben, and Klaus. It wasn't a trio so much as it was Klaus dragging both of his reluctant brothers along on his shenanigans. Good times.

"That's seriously the dumbest name," Diego said at the same time that Ben said, "30 years and you still haven't got a better name?"

Klaus beamed. "If either of you think of a better one, I'm all ears." Sitting here with his two favourite people helped his mood. He wasn't looking forward to eight weeks of rehab at all, but he knew that this was his final shot. If he fucked this up…

He was definitely going to fuck this up.

  
  
  


The clinic wasn't very far away. Maybe that was why Diego had chosen it. They had to get there earlier than usual to fill out all of the necessary paperwork.

"I don't understand why I have to fill out the same forms every single time," Klaus whined.

"You're not even filling them out. I'm filling them out for you," Diego muttered.

"And you're doing a great job," Klaus told him proudly, petting him on the cheek. "Ooh, that feels rather nice," he said, rubbing at the growing stubble. Diego batted his hand away and went back to frowning at the extensive paperwork.

"You know," Diego said, tongue poking out a little as he filled his details into the Emergency Contacts section, "it's kind of nice to be writing myself down for as the emergency contact for something that isn't you overdosing." He didn't say _hopefully_ but Klaus could hear it ringing in the air.

Klaus grimaced. He only knew two phone numbers from memory—the Academy's and Diego's. And there was no way in hell Klaus would ever put the Academy down, so all too often Diego had been the one called after Klaus' accidental (and sometimes less than accidental) overdoses. It had never been pretty.

"Yeah, hopefully," Klaus mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, throat tightening.

"No," Diego said firmly. "Not this time."

Once all the paperwork was filled out, and Klaus was checked in and ready to go, Diego pulled him to the side. He clapped him on the shoulder, seeming to gear himself up to say something. Diego studied his face and Klaus felt himself flush under the scrutiny but did his best to maintain eye contact. But no big speech came. Eventually Diego just said, "I'll see you at four."

  
  
  


Rehab sucked just as much as Klaus remembered. Every clinic was different and sure, this one was nicer than the one he'd been in just over a month ago (a month? Christ, it felt like it had been a lifetime), but they all had the same structure. There was so much talking about his feelings, and Klaus did _not_ appreciate it.

There was individual therapy, and god, so much group therapy. Klaus didn't mind the group therapy as much; he'd always appreciated a good audience.

Before he knew it, the first day had passed (thank god), and Diego was coming to pick him up. Back in the boiler room, Diego made dinner again. They lay on the couch, leaning against each other and watching television, until Klaus fell asleep and Diego snuck out to do his vigilante bullshit.

The next few days passed in the same pattern. Klaus accidentally set the kitchen on fire in cooking classes, and was told maybe he should try an activity a little less… dangerous. With cooking and gardening not being options, the next least boring option seemed to be art therapy.

Art wasn't terrible. It was messy, but Klaus had always liked messy, chaotic things. He spent the few hours painting dark figures. They didn't turn out nearly as well as he had hoped, and he got frustrated and ended up stabbing his paintbrush through the canvas.

Overall, it was going as well as rehab could. Maybe slightly better given that Klaus was actually trying for once. And this whole outpatient thing didn't suck because it was kinda nice to go back to Diego's in the evening and hang out. He'd given up putting space between them when Diego came to bed (as if he'd ever really tried), instead falling back to sleep with the sound of Diego's heartbeat beneath his ear. It was a nice reminder that someone was alive, that Klaus wasn't alone in this world.

It was fine, had been fine--until tonight. Diego had disappeared into the night and Klaus couldn't sleep. He tossed. He turned. This was bullshit. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, twisting his dog tags. There were knife marks in the ceiling that he'd never noticed before.

The gentle click of needles from the little old lady knitting in the corner absolutely did not help.

God, what he wouldn't do for some benzos right about now. Or some weed. Weed would suffice, probably. Hell, even a few orgasms might be enough to take the edge off. Maybe he needed to start exercising.

He snorted to himself.

Yeah. Good one.

But still. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin. Maybe Diego had some good painkillers, a little codeine stashed away for those days he got himself really beat up on the streets.

He inhaled. Exhaled. No. Even codeine was breaking the rules. But what if? No. He smacked himself in the face, trying to bring himself out of it. No. No. He'd rather just lie here, miserable and unable to sleep, than to risk Diego's wrath. Or worse: Diego's disappointment.

He could do this. He could do this. Maybe he could jerk off a few times. That was always nice. He hadn't jerked off in god knows how long. Not since he'd been at Diego's. Definitely not when he'd been holed up in bed back at the Academy, grieving. Christ. Had it really been a month?

But right now, he was horny. Surely Diego wouldn't mind if he went out and found someone to fuck him senseless. It wasn't breaking any rules, right? 

As if summoned by Klaus' thoughts, the door opened softly. Diego wasn't nearly as quiet as he usually was, stumbling a little as he descended the stairs. Klaus sat up, watching him through the dark. Diego was fumbling around blindly where Klaus knew the first aid kit was, and a few moments later Klaus heard the metal tin clatter loudly to the floor. Klaus switched on the light beside the bed.

"Diego?"

"Shit, sorry. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," Diego said, sounding pained.

"It's fine," Klaus said, pulling the blankets off. "Wasn't sleeping anyway." Diego was hunched over, arm pressed to his middle.

Klaus grabbed the first aid kit from the floor and helped Diego over to the couch.

"'M fine," Diego huffed, sounding absolutely not fine, and hissing as he moved.

"Shut up," Klaus said, unfastening Diego's bandolier. Diego's breathing was laboured and he inhaled sharply as he tried to struggle from his turtleneck and sweater. Even in the dim light, Klaus could see blood soaking through, the material wet underneath Diego's bloody hand.

"How attached are you to this sweater?" Klaus asked, grabbing one of the knives from Diego's thigh holster.

"Moderately? It's fine, I can get out of it."

"Sure you can," Klaus said breezily as he sliced the shirt down the middle. He pushed Diego's hand away gently, concerned that if the pressure was gone for too long, it'd make things worse. The wound against his left side was bleeding sluggishly.

Klaus moved almost as if on autopilot, helping to clean the wound and trying to examine it more closely.

"What are we dealing with? Gunshot?"

"Knife, thankfully," Diego wheezed.

"Oh yes, that's loads better," Klaus huffed, unsure whether he was being sarcastic or not. At least it wasn't a bullet wound. If it wasn't too deep, they'd probably (maybe) be able to avoid a trip to the hospital.

"This probably needs stitches." Klaus grimaced once he'd cleaned the wound thoroughly.

"Nope. Not a chance. It's not that deep. Didn't hit anything important. Butterflies'll do."

"You're not very convincing given you can barely breathe without sounding like you're in pain."

"Yeah," Diego huffed in a weak laugh that made him wince. "'Cause the bastard cracked some ribs. No stitches," he repeated.

"You're such an idiot. But whatever, it's your funeral. Hopefully not literally." Klaus searched through the first aid kit until he found the butterfly stitches. Diego eased his hand away from the wound, trying to remain still as Klaus gently applied them. Once that was done, he applied more bandages, wrapping it carefully around him, holding the extra layers of gauze in place.

Now that the worst of it had passed, he was able to take the rest of Diego in. Bruises were already blooming on his ribs and he had a cut on his eyebrow just beside the small scar that already lived there.

"Damn, you sure got your ass kicked tonight, didn't you?" Klaus whistled, grabbing another wipe to help clean the blood from Diego's face.

"You should see the other guy," Diego joked weakly.

"Uh huh."

"I won," Diego protested.

"Lucky us. The city is safe," Klaus said drily. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

Diego shook his head and glanced at his hands, covered in dry blood. "Nah, I'm good."

"Okay, if you've bled out by the morning, I'm going to be really pissed off. Who's going to drive me to rehab, Diego? Try to think of me here."

Diego huffed another laugh.

Even though the immediate crisis had passed as far as Klaus could tell, his mind remained eerily clear. He realised just how close he was to Diego. Diego was pale, his skin clammy, his eyes glassy.

"Thanks," Diego breathed, watching his face. 

Klaus wasn't sure who leaned in first but the next thing he knew they were kissing, sweet and slow. Klaus' eyes fluttered shut as he sank into the warmth of it, leaning in to get closer. It was only soft and gentle for a moment before he felt Diego's hand in his hair, tugging him forward as he deepened the kiss.

Diego's teeth tugged at his lower lip, fingers digging into his scalp at just the right side of painful. Klaus needed to be closer now or he was going to die, and he scrambled into Diego's lap, doing his best not to hit any of his injuries. Diego seemed very on board with this idea, barely letting Klaus pull away for more than half a breath before his mouth was on his again.

Klaus' heart raced in ways that it hadn't in so long. Falling in love with Dave had been a slow, almost languid affair, their spare evenings spent smoking joints and lazily fucking each other into bliss. This was nothing like that. This was fire burning through his veins and heat in his stomach and a desperation he wanted to drown in.

Klaus ground down against Diego only for Diego to gasp in pain and jerk back.

"Right, right," Klaus said after hissing in sympathy. "Grave injuries."

"'S fine," Diego breathed before pulling Klaus back down for another kiss.

It was gentler after that, all sweetness and softness, but with the same undercurrent of heat. Diego's hands found his ass, dragging him as close as his body would allow without Klaus upsetting his injuries. Diego was hard beneath him and it took all of Klaus' self-control not to just yank his fatigues off and ride him until neither of them could breathe. Unfortunately for him, Diego seemed to be struggling to breathe as it was, breaking off to gasp weakly in pain every so often.

For once, Klaus decided not to take the selfish path. His dick was aching in his boxers but Diego needed rest given his injuries. The faster Diego healed, the faster Klaus could get to riding him.

He eased off the kisses, letting Diego chase him.

"C'mon," Klaus murmured against his mouth, struggling to pull away as Diego kept interrupting him with kisses. "We should… try to get some… rest…"

Diego eased back. A little smile played on his kiss-swollen lips. "Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea."

With less grace than he might have liked, Klaus scrambled off of Diego's lap. He helped Diego clean up a little, washing the worst of the blood off and helping him out of his boots and fatigues. It tested the self-control he was not exactly known for, taking the pants off a man that he wasn't going to be sleeping with. Diego chuckled at him, cupping his face and kissing him once, twice, oh so sweetly, before lowering himself to the bed.

After allowing Diego to get as comfortable as he was going to, Klaus clambered over him. He put himself in his usual spot between Diego and the wall.

Klaus leaned over to flick the lights off, not wanting Diego to have to move again. When he lay down, bringing blankets over the both of them, he tried to keep some space. He didn’t want to risk hurting Diego. Diego seemed to have other ideas as he did his best to tug Klaus as close as they usually were.

He kissed Klaus just once more before letting Klaus curl around his arm.

"Thank you," Diego murmured into the darkness.

Klaus wasn't sure what he was being thanked for, but he felt a flood of warmth inside regardless.

This time, Klaus was able to fall asleep.

  
  
  


Klaus had been worried that maybe Diego would want to do something horrible, like _talk_ about things. Klaus really just wanted to know if he was allowed to make out with Diego whenever he wanted to now. It seemed Klaus didn't have to worry about it though, because Diego pulled him into a kiss at every chance. It was like a dam had broken and now that Diego was _really_ allowed to touch, he did. How long had Diego wanted this? As long as Klaus had?

Klaus was glad that Diego seemed to share his distaste for talking about things. Klaus had always been better at letting his body do the talking anyway.

Except, that was the problem. Diego was happy to make out. But Diego _only_ wanted to make out. Klaus had tried to distract him from taking him to rehab, not necessarily to get out of it, but rather because the idea of spending the entire day in bed with Diego, injured or otherwise, was the stuff of dreams.

But no, Diego had to go and be Diego, and dutifully drop him off at rehab; this time with a long, lingering kiss and a promise to see him that night.

In art therapy, Klaus painted in pinks and reds and yellows, instead of his usual blacks and greys and blues.


	3. Chapter 3

"The… pizza… is…" Klaus managed to get out between kisses. Diego started mouthing down his neck, dragging Klaus' cardigan down to his elbows so he had better access. "Um. Pizza. Going cold, and. Yeah, I don't care." He twisted his fingers in Diego's hair and kissed him, all teeth and tongue.

Klaus rolled his hips against Diego's, revelling in the hardness beneath him. Klaus had always suspected Diego was a big boy, and  _ ho boy _ , he was absolutely right. He couldn't wait to feel Diego inside him but Diego's stupid injuries were getting in the way of it.

His lips were swollen and sore, but he couldn't get enough. He ran his hands down Diego's sides gently and gripped the hem of his t-shirt, preparing to ease it off.

"Stop, stop," Diego panted as he pulled away, putting a hand on Klaus' chest.

"Shit, did I hurt you again?"

"No, no," Diego assured him, his hand moving to cup Klaus' cheek. He smoothed a thumb over his jawline. Klaus leaned into it. "Go on a date with me."

"Wha?" Klaus cocked his head.

"I like to date people before I sleep with them."

Klaus tilted his head further to the side, confused. "But isn't dating like, to get to know them? You've known me our entire lives."

"Yeah, but it's fun. I like it."

"Nobody's ever taken me on a date before though," Klaus protested. He shifted in Diego's lap, inhaling sharply when the movement added unexpected friction.

A little smirk played at the edges of Diego's mouth. "You say that like it'll talk me out of it, when really it's just making me more determined to do it."

"Okay. Let me get one thing straight. Because I'm pretty sure I'm not understanding something. I still get to sleep with you, right?"

"Sure. Sleep. But I'm taking you on a few dates before I fuck you senseless."

Klaus gaped, at a loss for words.

"Oh hey, if all I needed to do to make you quiet was threaten you with a date, I'd have done it a long time ago. Besides, I'm not much use right now." He gestured to his side.

"I could ride you?" Klaus offered, a little hysterical at the idea.

"Nope."

"Not even a blowjob? I'm good at those."

"Nope."

"Ugh, you're the worst!" He sagged against Diego, taking care not to lean too heavily. Diego tucked his head into Klaus' shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the exposed skin there. His hands settled at the small of Klaus’ back, thumbs rubbing small circles just under the edge of his tank top. Klaus tried not to enjoy it too much.

"Hm, I just had an idea," Diego said, and Klaus knew from his tone that he was going to like this idea even less than the first. "You make it through 30 days sober, and I'll more than make it worth your while. Consider it motivation. Or really extended foreplay. You're going to catch flies like that if you're not careful." He placed two fingers on Klaus' chin and pressed his mouth closed. The bastard was smirking.

"I hate you. So very, very much."

Diego leant up as far as he could and then used a hand at the back of Klaus' head to close the distance before kissing him so long, so sweetly, that Klaus was dizzy by the time he was done.

When he drew away, Klaus' brain was still offline. Diego said, "Okay, so it's settled. On the weekend, I'm taking you on a date."

"Fine. But I'm going to go and jerk off in the shower now," Klaus told him with a huff.

"Congratulations," Diego drawled, entirely unimpressed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Klaus muttered, easing off Diego's lap. "Like you're not going to do the same once I'm out of the room."

Diego, the bastard, just winked at him and spread his legs a little wider. 

*

Klaus was adjusting the buttons of his shirt when Diego returned from the shower. He slowed and ran his eyes appreciatively up and down Klaus' body.

"Isn't that your nicest outfit?" Diego asked finally.

"Oh." Klaus smoothed the buttons down. "Yes, yes it is. Thank you for noticing."

Diego gave him a quick kiss before going to his wardrobe. "You look great."

Klaus flushed furiously. Sexually active for fifteen or so years, several sugar daddies, more fucks than he could count, and now he was blushing at a simple compliment?  _ Jesus, Klaus, get a grip. _

Diego was already dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, the material stretched across his shoulders. He eased himself down onto the bed and dragged his boots over. Klaus watched as he glanced between the boots and his bare feet several times, mouth tightening.

"Need a hand?" Klaus asked.

Diego nodded once, sharply. "Yeah, would you?"

Klaus knelt in front of him and helped him into his socks and boots, lacing them carefully. When he was finished, Diego was staring at him with blown pupils, lip bitten. Klaus gave him a genial grin and stood. Diego cleared his throat, looking at the spot just to the left of Klaus.

Rather than make any teasing comments, Klaus helped Diego to his feet.

"So, where are we going?"

  
  
  


Diego took him to an art gallery.

"You told me that you've been doing art therapy at rehab. Thought it might be good for inspiration." Diego shrugged. "It was either that or a movie, given…" He gestured at his side. "And I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself in a dark room."

"That's weirdly touching," Klaus said, only half putting on the melodrama as he tried to blink the stinging feeling out of his eyes. "But I've got all the inspiration I need just looking at you," he teased.

"That's gay, Klaus," Diego told him flatly, despite the sparkling in his eyes.

Diego's hand was warm in his as they walked through the gallery. It was a weekend and there were far too many children around. Klaus found himself exploring the paintings the most. Diego just seemed happy to be dragged along for the ride, nodding as Klaus rambled.

"I don't actually know what any of these styles are. They're not exactly covering different styles in rehab, so much as trying to distract us." He paused and stared at the ceiling before nearly stumbling over a small child. "I think it's working."

They worked their way through one hallway after another. "That's gotta be a watercolour. I don't like them." He wrinkled his nose.

In another hallway: "And that's… oil? Maybe? I can't tell. I like the bright colours though."

And another. "This has to be minimalism. It's boring."

And another. "I've decided abstract is my favourite," Klaus announced with both hands on his hips as he stared at a canvas twice his size and filled with more colours than he knew the world contained.

"Colour me shocked."

And another.

"Let me guess," Diego said flatly. "This is a painting?" He pointed at a large marble sculpture of a naked woman draped in silk, his smile twisted.

Klaus clapped excitedly. "Now you're getting it!"

Diego shook his head. "You're an idiot."

Klaus beamed.

After meandering through all the areas Klaus was most interested in, they reached the foyer.

"There's an exhibition on," Klaus hummed, scanning the pamphlet they'd picked up at the start. "It's for children but," he shrugged, "it could be fun."

Diego's expression was pained. He shared Klaus' love [read: distaste] of children. "Sure. Why not?"

As soon as they entered the dim room, Klaus felt his eyes widen. There had been _nothing_ in the brochure about glitter!

"Oh my god," Klaus breathed, hand tightening in Diego's. "I think I'm in heaven." 

"I think this is my own personal hell," Diego winced.

The air-conditioning was weaker in here, the room a little stuffier. There were far too many small humans running around and getting their grubby paws all over the place. That wasn't the point. Tens of tiny sculptures lined the room, each containing delicate little fairies and their homes. Some had animal friends, some had families. All of them were iridescent with glitter.

Klaus peered at each one with wide eyes, distracted by the shiny.

"Move, spawn," Klaus hissed at a child that got in the way of a sculpture he was particularly enamoured with. The child started crying and Klaus gave its adult a forced, toothy grin. They moved away rather quickly.

"Nicely done," Diego murmured.

"Sarcasm?" Klaus asked, tilting his head up to look at him.

"Nope."

Klaus smirked and went back to staring at the sculpture.

"I mean, it's now how _I_ would do it," Klaus said as he righted himself. "I like my glitter less tastefully done and more everywhere. You know, like a rash."

"I'd noticed."

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, they found that the next room was more hands-on. Even more grimy children filled this room, using glitter to create their own art.

"Can I?" Klaus asked quickly, bouncing on the balls of his toes. "Can I? Can I? Can I?"

Diego sighed and before he could answer, Klaus was off with a victorious cry. He plonked down at one of the tiny tables, reaching to grab several shakers of glitter and a paintbrush with glue. He felt Diego come up behind him and rest a hand on his shoulder as he lowered himself down.

"Just know," Diego huffed, "that I regret absolutely everything about this. A movie was a way better idea."

"Too late," Klaus teased, giving Diego a paintbrush and some paper. Klaus began working on his own abstract art; he mostly just wanted an excuse to cover the paper in as much glitter as he could shake from the plastic bottles. Diego was far more conservative in his approach, tongue poking out as he carefully painted lines, tapped glitter onto them, and shook the excess away.

Midway through his second picture, Klaus turned to Diego. Feeling Klaus' eyes on him after a few seconds, Diego glanced up.

"What?"

Klaus leaned forward and gave him a small kiss. "This is the best first date ever."

Diego's smile was small, but Klaus could tell he was proud of himself.

"Also," Klaus said, dragging one long finger slowly along Diego's jawline, eyes softening, "gotcha!" He poured as much silver glitter as he could over Diego's hair and face before jumping to his feet and fleeing.

He was absolutely going to pay for that.

Klaus waited for him in the next room. Diego was going to _kill_ him. When Diego finally made it out, he was glaring and sparkling vibrantly.

"I hate you so much right now," Diego huffed as he walked past him. Klaus giggled as he followed after, skipping up to grab Diego's free hand.

"Oooh, you kept our pictures!" Klaus cooed, grabbing the papers to admire them.

"Such a shame the fridge isn't bigger, I could stick yours on there like a child's." Despite his grumbling, Diego still hadn't let go of Klaus' hand.

When they reached the car, Diego kept his grip on Klaus' hand and pinned him against the passenger side door. He brought his free hand up to Klaus' hair, gripping it and twisting it to just this side of painful. Klaus gasped, his eyes threatening to close in pleasure.

"You're going to pay for that," Diego told him softly, lips against Klaus' ear before he bit down _hard_.

"Oh god, I hope so," Klaus whimpered, feeling his cock twitch in his painfully tight pants.

"Just be glad I don't make it forty days," Diego said as he withdrew. He pressed a quick kiss to Klaus' ear and another kiss to his mouth, before wiping a glittery hand over Klaus' face.

Klaus wrinkled his nose, trying to regain his thoughts after his brain had just short-circuited.

"You wouldn't do that to yourself! Not even you are that much of a masochist," Klaus called over the roof of the car.

"Go on, Klaus. Test me. See where that gets you."

Klaus shivered, and when he slid into the passenger seat he let Diego pull him into a deep kiss that left him hard and panting. Just as Klaus was getting prepared to climb across the centre and seat himself in Diego's lap, Diego drew away.

"We're not done," Diego said, not nearly breathless enough for Klaus' taste.

"I'll say," Klaus agreed.

Diego grinned and put the car in reverse.

  
  
  


"Maybe I'm the masochist," Klaus got out between kisses. "Wait. I already knew that about myself. Maybe I'm more of a masochist than I thought."

"Klaus," Diego interrupted, twisting his hand in Klaus' hair just so. He'd learned that when he did that, Klaus went silent, and he was absolutely _abusing_ the privilege. "Shut up."

Diego tasted of maple syrup and the powdered sugar that they used at Griddy's; Klaus couldn't get enough. All he could smell was the leather of Diego's jacket and the faintest hint of his aftershave.

"But really," Klaus continued as if he hadn't heard Diego, "why do I keep getting myself into this situation?" He was hard as a fucking rock in his pants. Diego was in a similar state beneath him. The car windows were getting foggy, and Klaus _wasn't even getting laid_. It was entirely unfair.

"Maybe you really like edging," Diego teased him, and then bit his neck just below his ear. Klaus shuddered.

"Already knew that about myself."

"Good to know. I have a feeling I'm going to learn to love gags."

"You can't tease me like that if you're not going to deliver," Klaus whined, rolling his hips down with more force.

"Who says I'm not?"

Klaus whined at the thought, and let Diego very effectively shut him up with his mouth.

  
  
  


That evening, curled around Diego in bed, Klaus had to admit that dates weren't all that bad.

The date had taken it out of Diego. After Griddy's, Diego had taken him to the city's make-out point to watch the sunset, and obviously, to make out. It was just one of the many quintessential teenage experiences they hadn't had. There, Diego's face had begun to pinch in pain, the colour slowly seeping from his skin as whatever painkillers he'd taken that morning wore off. Klaus had eventually climbed from his lap and snuggled up against him, trying desperately to ignore his erection. The sunset had been beautiful, the changing light reflected on the glitter that would surely plague Diego for at least the next ten years.

Diego had fallen asleep mid-movie back home, snoring against Klaus' side.

It had been just over a month since the world hadn't ended. For the first time since then, he allowed himself the shred of hope that maybe things would turn out okay for him. He fingered his dog tags, clutching them close before letting them drop against his chest. 

He reached up, doing his best not to wake Diego, and turned off the lamp. He pressed a soft kiss to Diego's forehead then pulled the blankets over the both of them and tried his best to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: references to one of Klaus' ghosts killing themselves in this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who has been reading along thus far :D

Monday came too soon and Klaus discovered just how hard it was to leave the boiler room when he knew Diego would be spending his day in there. Then again, maybe it was a blessing to be out of the house. Diego was sure to be climbing the walls if he was couch-ridden for much longer.

It was a beautiful day out, with the promise of a warm summer to come in the air. He'd finished his individual and group therapy for the day. Only art therapy remained, and a part of him was tempted to stay outside. Maybe it was his good mood, maybe it was genuinely a lovely day. but did colours seem brighter? Had there always been this many butterflies and bees? Were flowers always this colourful?

He forced himself to stop bouncing his leg so that he could roll himself another cigarette. One already hung loosely from his lips, but he decided to roll a few more. It never hurt to be prepared. He tucked them neatly into his cigarette case when he was done, stowing it away in the pocket of his cardigan. It wasn't all that cold out but they air-conditioned the shit out of the centre and Klaus got _cold_ when he wasn't high as balls.

He started bouncing his leg again, task done. Maybe he'd take the afternoon off, sit here, and smoke. He'd done it every other time he'd been here. He'd never been overly invested in his own rehabilitation, doing the bare minimum where possible. He tapped his dog tags against his mouth idly, fingers tight around the warm metal.

"Klaus?" Jill called from the door. "Art time."

Klaus nodded at her and took one last, deep drag of his cigarette, enjoying the head rush that accompanied it. He stubbed it out on the ashtray and wandered back inside.

  
  
  


Art therapy could be whatever you wanted it to be. Klaus liked painting the most. He experimented with different mediums, trying to figure out which he liked best. It was one of the pros of going to a nicer rehab, he supposed. More choice, rather than being stuck with crusted over tubes of cheap paint. Memories of the art gallery flickered through his mind.

He hummed over the various materials before finally grabbing a few tubes of paint. He idly dragged his brush over the canvas. Mostly he was making a mess, seeing what happened when he mixed this colour with that, what happened when he used the brush at this angle, or smudged it at that. It was colourful again; he didn't really feel like painting his ghosts today.

"That looks lovely, Klaus," Jill said, coming up behind him.

Klaus gave her a mellow smile. "Yeah," he sighed. "Went to an art gallery over the weekend." He paused and twisted the brush into a swirl. "Think I could be the next Van Gogh."

"I think you can be anything you set your mind to," Jill said brightly.

"Oh, don't make me puke," Klaus said good-naturedly.

Jill laughed. "You seem to be doing a lot better this time, and it's only week two. Maybe this will be the last time we see you here."

A warm feeling filled Klaus' chest. He tried to tamp down on it. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," he joked. It was nice to hear though; the staff usually didn't bother to hide that they thought he was a hopeless case. This was a pleasant change.

An hour passed before Klaus felt his attention waver. Despite his best efforts, his picture looked nothing like the masterpieces he'd seen over the weekend. His arm was sore from the angle. He found himself staring outside and contemplating another cigarette break.

Cracking his neck, he decided that was a good course of action. "I'll be back," he said, waving offhandedly at Jill as he slipped out the sliding doors.

He surprised even himself when he finished the cigarette and actually returned. Something was niggling at him, but not in a bad way.

He sat back down and his eyes flitted over the classroom. There were mostly familiar faces, some more so than others. There was one girl he didn't recognise, but that was nothing new. People came and went through rehab, there one day and gone the next. Rehab was somewhere Klaus had begun to think of as a liminal space, neither here nor there.

He shrugged and went back to his painting. He heaped more colour onto it, dragging the brush through the mess he would loosely describe as 'art'.

His eyes were drawn to the girl in the corner again. She was silent, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. Every so often her eyes would dart around the room as if she saw things that weren't there. Oof. Klaus could relate.

Realising that he was getting no further with his painting for the day, he started to pack up. He grabbed his paints and returned them. The washing station was just behind the girl.

"Hi," Klaus said brightly after he'd washed his first brush. "Are you new here?"

The girl's eyes slid over to him and she cocked her head. She had big blue eyes ringed with smudged eyeliner not dissimilar to his own. Her eyes ran up and down his body, sizing him up. Apparently seeing no threat in him, she nodded slowly.

"Nice," Klaus nodded. He felt a weird pang in his chest. She was so _young_. Klaus had been smoking weed since he was thirteen, hitting the harder stuff at seventeen, and had his first real stint in rehab maybe two years later. Just because he'd been getting high most of his life didn't mean he liked seeing others follow in his footsteps.

He turned around to face her fully, hands on his hips. The wet brushes dripped on his bare feet, but he paid them little heed.

"That's a great picture," he commented, cocking his head to study the sketchpad in front of her. She was remarkably good. She'd drawn the room in front of her, minus the people. "You've even managed to get the light just right," he said, a little envious. He hoped it wasn't showing in his voice.

"Thank you," she said softly, looking down. Her brown hair fell across her face and hid it temporarily before she looked back up at him again, smiling tightly.

"What's your name?"

"Mandy," she said.

"Well, my dear," Klaus said, hand to his chest. "I'm Klaus.  _ Enchante _ ."

Mandy giggled.

"So, since this is your first time here, let me, an old hat, give you some tips on how to make this shit better." He launched into a ramble about which staff were the nicest, the way to make the days pass faster, how to fall asleep at night, how to muffle your screams when you woke from nightmares. You know, all the handy things he'd learned over the years.

She loosened up as he talked, laughing in all of the right places.

It was during one joke, as she tossed her head back and giggled wildly, that Klaus saw it. There were brutal marks around her neck; Klaus was too familiar with them.

He stopped mid-joke and glanced around the room. Jill gave him a tight smile, but didn't seem to see Mandy.

_ Huh _ .

"How long have you been here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a week or two." She frowned down at the floor. "I hope I get to leave soon. I don't like being trapped here. It's cold. And you're the only one who's talked to me."

Klaus' stomach twisted. "You know, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to."

"I don't know how to leave," she confessed.

He swallowed. He wasn't quite sure how to do this. Years and years of resisting his father's lessons, of taking every measure possible to avoid his ghosts, had left Klaus somewhat in the dark about how to help them along.

Klaus leant forward, resting his hands on his thighs so that their eyes were at the same level.

"Well, what do you think is keeping you here?"

She shrugged. "I know my Dad would be disappointed that I was here."

"You and me both, kiddo," Klaus snorted.

"But he'd want me to stick with it so I could get better. I should finish it."

Her eyes filled with tears and for the first time, Klaus was disappointed that he couldn't touch his ghosts. She looked like she needed a hug.

"You know," Klaus said softly, "I bet he'd be proud of you for coming here at all. It was a sign that you were wanting to get better. If I was a father, I'd be proud of that."

Her smile was watery. "Maybe."

"I'm sure he loved you a lot." It was strange, being this nice. Klaus didn't know what it was like to be loved by a father, by any human parent, but he could imagine. He felt like he was playing a role and his body wasn't quite his own; the faintest pulse of what he instinctively knew was blue light tingled deep inside his veins, unfamiliar but not necessarily unwanted.

"He did." She swallowed with visible force.

"And I bet he'd want, more than anything, for you to be happy."

She nodded. "Thank you. It's warmer now."

In between blinks, she was gone. Klaus felt weirdly bereft without her. His head _hurt_. He leaned heavily against the wash station, feeling more tired than he had in a long time.

With a heavy sigh, he turned back to the wash station to finish cleaning his brushes. He all but jumped out of his skin when he saw Ben perched on the counter beside it.

Klaus squawked in surprise. "Jesus H Christ, can't you knock or something?"

"Nicely done," Ben said proudly, kicking his feet in and out of the cabinets.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, no need to gloat. It doesn't look good on you." He finished with the brushes and set them aside to dry. "I'm going for a smoke."

He spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, staying until the sun was setting and he was finally allowed to go home.

  
  
  


Back in the boiler room, Klaus curled up under several blankets despite the warmth of the day. Diego eased himself onto the bed petting Klaus' slowly curling hair. Klaus shifted himself so that he was curled around Diego and buried his face in his lap.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up it was dark. The only light came from the single lamp beside the bed. Diego was still beside him, reading.

"I didn't know you had glasses," Klaus said, his voice scratchy.

Diego raised an eyebrow and tucked his glasses away.

"No, don't do that," Klaus complained. "They're cute."

"You're cute?" Diego offered awkwardly, changing the topic. He shifted down so his face was closer to Klaus'. Diego kissed him gently, cupping Klaus' face in one of his big hands. He left his hand there even after he withdrew, fingers brushing the hair at Klaus' temple. "You okay?"

Klaus nodded, still feeling utterly drained. "Yeah. Just… long day."

"Bad day?"

Klaus shook his head and yawned widely. "No. Just. Just long."

Diego stared at him with an unreadable expression. Eventually he nodded. "You hungry? There's leftovers in the fridge."

"Mmm, no," Klaus said after pondering it. "I just want more sleep."

"Okay."

With great effort, Klaus pushed himself out of the twisted blankets for long enough to turn the light off. In the dark, Klaus shifted, dragging the blankets over Diego, who then kicked them off with a complaint about it being too hot. Finally, clutching his dog tags close, he snuggled against Diego, squirming until he could feel his heartbeat beneath his ear.

He slept deeper than he had in years.

  
  
  


A part of Klaus was still expecting Mandy to be at rehab the next day. She wasn't. When he asked Jill questions during her smoke break, she let it slip that a young woman had killed herself a few days before Klaus had returned.

Klaus felt a little sick.

At least he knew she was at peace now.

*

Nana was keeping him awake with her goddamn knitting. Again. Even when Klaus pulled a pillow over his head or shoved his fingers in his ears, he could _still fucking hear her_.

He shot out of bed, pissed off. The day had been warm, but with the setting sun a chill had settled over the boiler room. He hadn’t noticed it when curled up in bed with Diego, but he sure as hell noticed it now that he was stomping around in nothing but lacy panties. He grabbed one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it around himself.

Beside him, Diego murmured, but Klaus hushed him impatiently. He felt a little bad about it a moment later but Klaus was going to get rid of this little old lady,  _ so help him _ .

He grabbed his own knitting from its spot under the TV, all tangled wool and uneven loops. This had better fucking work, or he was going to fucking lose it.

Nana was still sitting on the stairs in the corner of the room. Klaus shivered but sat down beside her. She was cold. They were always so fucking cold. He exhaled a little and tried not to shiver.

"Hey Nana," he said softly, as if approaching a startled animal. "I was wondering, would you mind helping me?" He held out the tangled threads for her to see.

Her eyes widened and she uttered something in German. Grace had taught him German when he was younger, when he'd asked where he'd come from; same as how she'd taught Diego Spanish and Vanya Russian. He didn't remember most of it, but knowing the language a spirit spoke had never been an element of his powers. Somehow, he'd always just _known_ what they were trying to say.

What she was saying was that his efforts were shit.

"I know, I'm not very good at it. But you seem to be, so maybe you could give me some pointers?"

She gave a creaky laugh of glee and nodded, reassuring him.

She wasn't a terrible teacher, Klaus discovered. She sat closely beside him and demonstrated over and over again what he needed to do, walking him through the steps. He reached the end of his line, and she helped him start the next. His next line was just as messy as the first, but he got through it a little faster. Once he'd completed a few lines, each stitch uneven, she started showing him how to make them neater, reassuring him that he'd soon be making beautiful scarves for his loved ones.

He glanced over towards the bed, hiding a little smile to himself. He hoped he wasn't keeping Diego awake.

Diego wouldn't wear scarves anyway.

He was just starting to get the hang of it when he felt the familiar itching deep inside, as if something was tickling his bones. It was just as uncomfortable as it sounded, but rather than pushing it away, he just tried the breathing techniques his therapists always shitted on about in rehab. The sensation eased, becoming more of a pleasant tingle. It was the same feeling Klaus associated with the first few shots of vodka.

He watched his hands as the faintest blue light shimmered under his skin.

Nana was chattering away, sweetly scolding him on his grip when her voice started to fade.

"Wait, no, no," Klaus protested. "I still don't get how to…" He trailed off. She was gone. He sighed. He supposed he should be grateful. She wouldn't be preventing him from sleeping, and she'd found peace… But Klaus still wasn't sure how to keep his stitches even.

He huffed and packed his knitting away. Maybe he could practice in the morning.

When he climbed back into bed beside Diego, Diego seemed to be in that delicate space between asleep and awake. He grumbled as Klaus tucked himself back in.

"What was that?" Diego asked sleepily.

"Decided it was a good time to start learning how to knit," Klaus said, rubbing his face against Diego's collarbone, trying to get comfortable. Nana had been keeping him up but now he was bone tired. Sleep dragged at him, threatening to pull him under at any moment.

"Hey," Klaus said into the darkness.

"Mmm?" 

"If I made you a scarf, would you wear it?"

Diego hummed, shifting as much as he could given the pain in his ribs. Klaus turned into the touch, rubbing his nose against Diego's.

"I'd wear anything you made me, baby," Diego slurred, kissing Klaus’ nose before tucking his head against Klaus' shoulders.

The warm feeling in Klaus' chest should have scared him. For once it didn't.

*

Klaus was learning to control his powers. It probably wasn't the way Reggie wanted, but it was something. From the way Reginald had always talked, Klaus had figured he'd wanted him to take control of their bodies. He'd done that with Ben.

Klaus very politely said 'fuck that'. He was teaching these people to be at _peace_ instead of running away. As long as they left him alone, he didn't care how they got there. It was good enough for him.

"I mean, maybe it's just been sheer dumb luck. I have a surprising amount of that," Klaus said to Ben, who was perched on a windowsill above Klaus' head as he smoked.

"I don't think so," Ben said, staring off into the distance. "Can you try the cooking class again? That was fun."

Klaus glared up at him. "You saw how that turned out. They nearly had to call the Fire Department."

"I know. It was great."

Klaus pulled a face at him. Ben blew him a kiss.

"I'm glad you're doing this, Klaus," Ben said, voice surprisingly light. "You're even eating breakfast."

Klaus exhaled the smoke through his nose. "Yeah, well, thank Diego."

"I would if I could."

"I'm kind of sick of eggs though. Do you think he knows how to make anything else?" He paused. "Probably not. Could ask Mom to teach me something. I mean, she managed to teach Diego anything about the kitchen."

Ben hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, but Diego's been following her around the kitchen since he could walk. He doesn't look like he'd be good in the kitchen but…" He shrugged. "His place is tidy too."

Klaus considered this. "He's definitely not what he seems, if you know what I mean. I mean, underneath all that leather--," 

"I would give literally anything not to hear about your sex life right now. Or ever."

"I was just going to say that underneath all that leather is a giant marshmallow," Klaus lied.

Ben’s expression was disbelieving. 

Klaus batted his eyelashes. "Besides, what sex life? He's refusing to have sex with me until I get another stupid chip."

"Huh. That's definitely unexpected."

"Say he likes to 'date people' before sleeping with them."

"Weird."

"Right?" Klaus stubbed out his cigarette, staring at a bee darting between flowers. "I mean, the man is sex on legs, but he wants to take it slow. Talk about cognitive dissonance."

"Maybe he likes you more than he's letting on."

"Maybe. He might be secretly romantic." Well, it wasn't so much a secret. Klaus had already learned this. He crossed his ankles out in front of him. "He's all prickles and knives on the outside but inside he’s a gooey marshmallow."

The corners of Ben's mouth tightened. "I guess that means I don't have to disappear into the void every time you two are around each other."

"I didn't say I wasn't _trying_ ," Klaus sniped. God he was horny. He felt like a teenager again with all the making out he and Diego were doing. Except, unlike when he was a teenager, he wasn't getting  _ past _ the making out. Goddamn Diego and his willpower. "I tell you what, the second I got that little chip, I'm going to fuck that man's brains out."

Ben heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I really wish I didn't know these things."

Klaus gave him a tight smile and wrinkled his nose. "I've just always assumed you're a secret voyeur and enjoy my exploits more than you let on."

"Couldn't be further from the truth," Ben shot back.

Klaus leaned further back onto the bench, arms spreading across the back. "I missed you when I was in 'Nam," he commented, tone lighter than he felt.

"I didn't," Ben said chirpily.

"Well it was, what, less than a day for you?" He stopped, thinking. "Do you think I can make you move on?"

Ben shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe you have to want to go, too."

"Do you?"

Ben shrugged again, expression troubled. "I don't know. It hasn't felt like an option."

"I think I'd miss my shoulder angel." He didn't offer to help Ben move on if he wanted, because Klaus was a selfish prick, and they both knew it.

Ben just gave him a sad little smile.

They both watched the garden again

"Do you think I could convince Mom to teach Diego how to make waffles?"

"You could ask her to teach you?"

"Do you think Diego would eat them?"

"I think Diego would just be pleased you didn't set his place on fire."

Klaus grinned.

*

Klaus fastened Diego's laces, sitting back on his heels when he was done.

"You know, I rather like you down on your knees for me."

Klaus blinked up at him before smirking. "Say the word and you can have more of it."

"Oh good. You can tie my shoelaces every day, then."

Klaus glared. "You know that's not what I meant."

Diego crooked a finger at him and Klaus leant in, resting his hands on Diego's thighs. "I know. It wasn't what I meant either," he said softly against Klaus' ear, before gently biting it.

Klaus full-body shivered as the world got a little hazier. "Oh," he breathed.

Diego put some distance between them with a satisfied look on his face. "Yeah. Oh."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some self-destructive behaviour in this chapter--but relatively mild in the scheme of it I think??? :) 
> 
> Thank you for those who have been reading and commenting along! You make this girl very happy :D

"So, I was thinking that on Saturday we should go to that arcade on 41st."

Diego turned the television down a little. "Come again?"

"You like that place, right? Am I remembering the wrong place?"

Diego studied him for a long moment before saying, "No, I like it. Just. What?"

"Which part of this is confusing you? I was just planning this week's date; I wasn't aware it would be so trying for you."

"Well, hello Five, nice of you to visit," Diego said dryly. Klaus pulled a face at being likened to their brother. Diego gave him a closed-mouth smile. "Why are you planning a date?"

Klaus' stomach dropped, just a little; his throat was tight. Maybe he'd misinterpreted. He'd been rejected countless times in his life, but it never stopped stinging.

"Oh, no reason," he said, voice lighter than he felt. "We don't have to. I just..." For once he didn't have a quip lined up. A cold prickle ran down the back of his neck.

Diego's expression was puzzled before it morphed into a little grin. "I mean, we can do the arcade. It's probably a better idea than the movie I was going to suggest. Definitely better, actually. I still don't trust you in a dark theater."

A rush of relief washed over Klaus. _Oh_. It wasn't that Diego hadn't wanted another date, so much as he'd been confused that Klaus had been planning it.

"Excuse me, I've been extremely well-behaved, all things considered," Klaus huffed. "I haven't rubbed off on your thigh while you slept even once!"

"I'm not sure that's something you should necessarily be proud of, Klaus," Diego said flatly, though his eyes twinkled. "So, the arcade. We can do that. Was there anything else you were thinking?"

Klaus sat up straighter, all feelings of rejection disappearing as quickly as they'd come on. He wriggled happily in his seat and threw his legs over Diego's lap. "Why, thank you for asking! I was thinking we could do the arcade because I know you like to show off on those games. Then I was thinking I could kick your ass in Time Crisis, since I'm in practice again."

"Ha, I'd like to see you try."

"And then after that, I was thinking we could grab some doughnuts from the new food truck near Griddy's. They're vegan."

"Why would anyone want to do something like that to a doughnut?"

"I know, but they're supposed to be really good. Jill says so. And then we could take the doughnuts to the park where we used to catch up all the time."

"You're gonna have to narrow that one down, buddy."

"You know the one. Not too far from the station. We'd eat burritos there after I got out of the drunk tank."

"Oh right. That one. Why not the one just down the road from Griddy's? We used to hang out there too."

"Oh yeah. That makes more sense, come to think of it. I guess I just have a lot of good memories of the other one."

"Klaus," Diego said gently, "you were usually so high that you could touch the cosmos."

Klaus sighed happily, resting his chin in his hands. "Yeah. Good memories."

Diego snorted. "We can do that if you want. But my memories of that place aren't as good. You vomited on my shoes. At least twice."

"Oops."

"Not to mention that we were usually eating there because my brother had been arrested _again_ and I was trying to get him to eat for the first time that week."

"Hm, I suppose I can see why those are less positive memories. We could do the one near Griddy's. I mostly remember being very, very hungover there."

"Yep," Diego agreed, curling a hand around the back of Klaus’ neck. 

"Oh."

"Yep."

"Okay, fine. We'll go to the park near Griddy's. I haven't really got a back up plan if it rains, though."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," Diego chuckled. He cocked his head. "I'm kind of surprised you've thought about it this much. I figured I'd be left to do all of the planning. Forward thinking has never exactly been your strong suit."

"Like you're one to talk, Mr Punch First, Questions Later," Klaus shot back before shrugging. "I had fun on our last date. Thought it might be nice to have another."

Klaus saw a flash of something in Diego's face, something he couldn't give a name to. He knew it was an expression he definitely wanted to see again. A little smile danced across his lips.

"C'mere," Diego said, spreading his legs and tugging at Klaus. Klaus went, climbing into Diego's lap. Diego pulled him down into a kiss, cradling his jaw to move Klaus exactly where he wanted him.

Klaus ran blunt nails over Diego's scalp, deepening the kiss at every opportunity. Diego, the teasing bastard, kept pulling away just enough to make sure Klaus would whine and chase after his mouth.

Diego's other hand rested on his thigh, rubbing little circles just below the hem of his skirt with his thumb. It sent goosebumps across his whole body.

"How many days left?" Diego asked against his mouth.

"Too many," Klaus mumbled. "Can't… think… when you're…" He trailed off, wrapping his arms around Diego's neck to bring him closer.

"Yeah," Diego agreed.

"I'm regretting the skirt today," Klaus told him, rolling his hips just once, feeling how hard Diego was beneath him. Diego shivered and pulled Klaus down harder. Klaus ground down, gasping when Diego bit his shoulder in response.

"I'm regretting several of my decisions too."

"Oh good," Klaus said, his head falling back as Diego pressed wet kisses up his neck and jaw. "You can always change your mind. I won't mock you much."

"Not a chance," Diego breathed, back to Klaus’ mouth. "Thirty days. We can… We can make it another twenty days."

"Assuming I don't die in the meantime," Klaus muttered, whimpering when Diego buried his fingers in his hair and dragged him back.

Diego stared at him, impossibly dark eyes meeting his and then darting to his mouth. He looked like he was about to say something before thinking better of it and pulling Klaus back into another heady kiss.

Klaus was hard as a rock, getting precome on the inside of his skirt.

"Diego, please," he panted, still grinding, beginning to fall into a dangerous rhythm. Diego's hand on his thigh had inched a little higher, blunt nails digging in.

"Hey, nobody said you couldn't jerk off, baby boy," Diego murmured. An involuntary whine escaped Klaus at the endearment. Diego paused, adding more to himself than to Klaus, "Lord knows I'm doing that a hell of a lot lately."

Klaus let out a desperate sound and pulled away. Diego's pupils were blown, his lips swollen with kisses.

"This is probably your worst idea yet," Klaus complained, shocking even himself as he summoned every last ounce of strength to put a few inches between them.

"Agreed," Diego said, surprising Klaus. "When I decided this, I wasn't quite thinking about the fact that you live with me." He paused. "Or how you look in a skirt." His eyes dragged down the length of Klaus' body; Klaus flushed under the attention and grinned despite his light-headedness.

Diego brought him in for another kiss, lips hovering a breath from Klaus' as he said, "That said, I promise to fuck you until your mascara runs, first chance I get."

Klaus drew away and glared. "You can’t say things like that and then not follow through! That's just outright unfair."

Diego chuckled wickedly, sinking against the back of the couch. "Never said I played fair, baby."

Klaus groaned and flopped his head against Diego's shoulder as Diego patted his back soothingly.

  
  
  


Klaus, much to Diego's chagrin, _did_ manage to kick Diego's ass at Time Crisis. Klaus hadn't picked up a gun since he'd left the Academy, not until he'd gone back in time. There were some things, Klaus had learned, that became automatic memory whether you liked it or not. He knew he could still kick someone's ass six ways to Sunday, but he preferred not to think about _how_ he knew that.

Diego kicked his ass at just about every other video game they played. It was fine. Klaus was used to that, and it meant far more to Diego to always be first.

"I just want it on the record," Klaus announced as they left the arcade, both arms wrapped around giant stuffed bear Diego had won, "that I at least kicked your ass at shooting."

"Yeah, because Dad never taught me how to shoot," Diego grumbled, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark jeans. Despite his arguments, he didn't seem too put out by losing one game to Klaus.

"Because I'm just that generous, I could give you a few pointers," Klaus offered.

Diego rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously," Klaus went on. "It could be fun. I'd be able to tell you all the things you're doing wrong, adjust your grip and stance. It'd be sexy, like in the movies when the love interest teaches the romantic heroine how to play pool."

"Does that make me the romantic heroine?"

Klaus pondered. "Yes. Yes, I can see why that wouldn't work. I just don't think you have the legs to pull off a skirt."

Diego raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked my legs."

"Oh, I do. But I think we can both agree I'm the one that looks better in a skirt."

Diego opened the back door of the car for him. Klaus made sure to bend over a little further than he needed as he pushed his new friend into the backseat. He took the time to buckle the bear in, if only to have an excuse to keep bending over in front of Diego like this. When he finally stood again, Diego was staring at the grey sky above them. He looked back down once Klaus was upright.

"Trying your gentlemanly patience?" Klaus asked innocently, kicking the door closed behind him.

Diego pinned him against the car and ran a thumb along his jawline, brushing his nose against Klaus'. "You know there's nothing gentlemanly about me," he said softly, lips brushing Klaus'.

"Oh, I don't know," Klaus joked. "Who's the one who won't fuck me until he's taken me on a few dates? Sounds like gentlemanly behaviour to me."

Diego bit his jaw hard enough that Klaus gasped. His other hand gripped Klaus' thigh, digging into the flesh as he hitched Klaus’ leg up and slid long fingers under the hem of his skirt. Diego nipped his earlobe as he ran his hand up the outside of Klaus' thigh, all the way up until it settled on his bare hipbone.

"No underwear?" Diego asked, his surprised voice soft against his ear.

Klaus shook his head, swallowing. He bit his lip. Diego's hand was so fucking close, all he had to do was… Fuck.

"Jesus Christ," Diego muttered, drawing away just enough that Klaus could see the heat in his eyes before kissing him deeply. He drew back, letting Klaus' leg drop back to the ground and removing his hand from Klaus' hip.

"You definitely look better in a skirt," Diego said, opening the passenger side door for Klaus before walking around to his side of the car.

Klaus leant against the car for a few breaths, trying to remember how to move before he snapped, "Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?"

Diego chuckled and winked at him. "Would I do a thing like that?"

"I hate you so much," Klaus muttered as he slid into the car and slammed his door shut a little harder than necessary.

  
  
  


Vegan doughnuts, Klaus discovered, were far better than he expected.

Kissing in a sudden downpour, on the other hand, was definitely more romantic in movies than it was in reality. Diego didn't seem to mind and just pulled Klaus back in anyway.

"It's okay," Diego said as he pulled his jacket around Klaus' shoulders. "We'll just have to find a way to warm up when we get home."

"You say that, but you don't mean it," Klaus muttered darkly, a little cold despite the leather draped over him.

Diego gave him a startlingly realistic look of innocence. "Of course I do. I was thinking blankets, a movie, and I think I have some hot chocolate stowed away from one of the times you visited."

"Okay, fine," Klaus grumbled, letting Diego take his hand as they walked back to the car. "That does sound kind of nice."

*

This day, Klaus decided, was cancelled. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong, so much as _everything_ was wrong. 

Klaus threw himself into the front seat of Diego’s car with enough force that it knocked some of the wind out of him. He slammed the door shut. Diego was giving him a look that screamed 'what the fuck'.

"What?" Klaus huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Bad day?"

Klaus grumbled. Diego put the car in drive without pushing the matter. That, in itself, pissed Klaus off. 

His skin felt too tight; his heart was thudding painfully in his chest. Not a single day went by without Klaus wanting to throw in the towel, saying 'fuck this shit' and getting a hit. But he'd been having it easy in the grand scheme of things. Rehab, surprisingly, was helping. Diego, less surprisingly, also helped. They both provided distractions when he needed it, helping him in the moments when it all felt like too much. It didn't matter if he was craving the chill of weed or benzos, or the feel-good of E, or the separation of K. Each time, he'd be sufficiently distracted until the moment passed.

Today, it was doing no such thing. He didn’t crave Diego's hands or his mouth. Instead, irritation twisted everything that Klaus loved, and made him into the person that had ruined anything good that had ever come his way.

He knew he ought to feel guilty, but everything _pinched_. His nails, sharp and jagged from constant biting, twisted into the skin of his knees and left harsh red marks in their wake.

Diego kept shooting him looks as they drove, face frustratingly blank.

If Diego didn't quit doing that, Klaus was going to fucking lose it, the same way he'd done multiple times in group therapy today.

A few threads from the artful distressing of his jeans tickled his skin. He ripped them from the fabric and threw them to the floor of the car.

"Can you not?" Diego sounded close to losing his temper. Good.

Klaus yanked another few threads, expanding the hole across his knee. He dropped them. He knew he was being childish but he didn't care.

Diego rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the road.

Klaus bounced his legs as he chewed viciously at the inside of his lower lip. He wondered if he could draw blood. He worried at it harder.

"Stop that." Diego pushed Klaus’ hands away from his knee.

Klaus hadn't even realised he'd dug his nails in again. He'd broken the skin a little, the lines jagged and uneven. It stung but Klaus liked it.

"Hey," Klaus snapped, smacking Diego's hand away and putting his hand back on his knee _just because he could_.

Diego responded by smacking him over the back of his head.

"Fuck you," Klaus snarled.

"Stop hurting yourself, idiot."

"Fuck you," Klaus repeated, bodily turning and glaring out the window. He crossed his arms over his chest, legs bouncing harder.

Back in the boiler room, Klaus paced back and forth, trying to rid himself of the excess energy thrumming through his veins. He just needed something to take the edge off. It didn't even have to be drugs. Some booze would do nicely. A good solid fucking, his face getting grazed by the brick wall he'd no doubt be shoved against. Just. Something. Anything.

He didn't look at Diego as he paced, not wanting to see that judgemental stare. He could feel Diego's eyes on him.

Maybe Diego would… No. No, he wouldn't. Maybe he just didn't understand how badly Klaus needed it. He crossed the space, breathing harshly, and wrapped his arms around Diego's neck. Diego was tense, expression tight.

"Hey, c'mon. We don't have to wait the 30 days, right? C'mon. Please. I need it. I just need something to take the edge off, just a little something. I need you. You'll make an exception for that, right?" He swayed his hips, getting in nice and close to Diego, bringing their chests and hips together.

"No." Diego pressed a hand to Klaus' chest, putting space between them. "Not when you're like this."

"It's  _ because _ I'm like this that I need it," Klaus protested, arms still around Diego's neck. His nails pressed into his arms. "Don't you get that?"

"What part of 'no' don't you get?" Diego's voice was hard and he shoved away from Klaus.

The rejection stung and Klaus was a little gobsmacked.

"You know what?" Klaus huffed. "Fine. Be like that."

Klaus started rummaging around in his things, throwing clothing over his shoulder until he found his lace up pants and his favourite mesh tank top. He kicked off his Docs and shucked out of his skinny jeans before squeezing himself into the tight leather.

"What are you doing?" Diego asked, shoulders pushed back and arms folded over his chest. Klaus recognised the stance; it was the one he wore when shit was about to go down with Luther, but they weren't quite at the point of throwing punches. _Good_.

"Goin' out."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Klaus glared up at him as he re-laced his boots. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Jesus, Klaus," Diego exhaled, staring at the ceiling as if there might be a god above that could give him strength.

Klaus stood, hands on his hips. "Well it's not like you're fucking me, so I may as well find someone that will."

There was a flash of hurt across Diego's face, so brief that Klaus wondered if he'd imagined it. He was temporarily shocked out of his rage before it settled in his gut again.

Diego unleashed a knife across the room in the opposite direction to Klaus. Klaus knew that reaction from when they were kids, when Diego got mad and had nowhere to channel that anger. Klaus felt a sick rush of satisfaction that he'd managed to piss Diego off enough to bring that out in him.

He wanted to see how much further it could go.

Klaus had always been a masochist in every sense of the word. He liked to push people, liked to bring out the darkest parts of who they were, digging his fingers in and seeing what happened. Sometimes it was amazing sex, sometimes it was bruised cheekbones and split lips; Klaus wanted either, wanted both.

Diego was glaring at him and breathing heavily. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. Seemed like the knife throw had done the trick and taken the razors edge off of his anger.

Klaus sneered. "You done?"

"Are you?"

"Oh baby, I'm just getting started."

Diego rolled his eyes. "That's it? You're just going to throw all of this away? All the progress you've made? For what? A quick fuck?"

"I was hoping to add some weed or benzos, but yeah, that's about the sum of it." He started towards the door again, but Diego blocked him.

Fury flared in him.

"Move." Klaus' voice was cold, even to his own ears.

"No."

"You can't stop me forever," Klaus bit out.

"I know. But I can stop you making a stupid mistake right now."

"I don't care that it's a mistake. I care about not feeling anymore. This whole endeavour is pointless, and we both know it. I'm never going to actually be sober. I'm a hopeless case." He laughed bitterly and felt a little sick at the realisation.

That seemed to snap something entirely in Diego; an unfamiliar expression flashed across his face. Diego moved quickly, backing Klaus against the pillar in the middle of the room, their faces inches apart. Reggie would have been proud; Klaus automatically thought through at least three ways to break the hold Diego had on him. He was tempted to break free just to fuck with him. He settled for resting his hand on Diego's arm in the first step in breaking the hold; Diego would know what it meant.

Diego narrowed his eyes and leaned in. "Now, listen here, and listen close. You're not a hopeless case. I know that, even if you don't. But we both know that you're being an asshole. Everyone else might let you get away with this bullshit but I won't. Never have, and I'm not about to start now."

Klaus was shaking, the adrenaline of his anger coursing through him, making him drunk on the sensation. He wanted to fight, wanted to kick Diego's legs out from under him, wanted to knock Diego off that pedestal he was perched on.

He opened his mouth to protest but Diego cut him off. "So unless you want to see what pushing me _really_ does, I'd suggest you take a few deep breaths and do everything you're told."

Klaus had never taken anything lying down in his fucking life. He tightened his grip on Diego's forearm. Diego narrowed his eyes at him but refused to break the eye contact.

"And if I don't?" Klaus asked, huffing a bitter laugh.

Diego fixed him with a dark smile. "You're welcome to test that."

Klaus ground his teeth together, jaw clenched. _God_ , he wanted to test. He wanted to see how far he could go, how hard he had to push, for Diego to finally lose it. He'd never lost it at Klaus, not in the way he lost it at Luther or Five, not in the way he'd lose it about Dad, taking his anger out on whatever surfaces his teenage fists could reach. Klaus wanted to break apart what little control Diego had remaining because fuck, Klaus was masochistic like that.

Klaus must have been silent for long enough that Diego felt like he'd won. Diego eased the grip he had on Klaus' mesh shirt, a satisfied little smile twisting his lips. It sparked another wave of anger through Klaus. And then the grip changed, coming up to rest oh-so-gently at Klaus’ throat. The hand that had been off to the side of his head drifted to the back of his neck and dug into his curls, twisting just the way Klaus liked it.

Klaus' mind went very, very quiet. The anger dissipated so suddenly that it felt like a gaping chasm opened in his chest. His mind played a high-pitched squealing sound. The hand at his throat tightened, the barest pressure, just to show Klaus that Diego _knew_.

Diego didn't move for what felt like a lifetime, though it was really only a few breaths. He withdrew, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders back.

"Good. Now, you're going to help me with dinner for once in your fucking life. Okay?"

Klaus, mind quiet for the first time all day, nodded.

  
  
  


Klaus could be described as many things, and 'spitefully stubborn' covered a lot of them.

He'd only ever been bested by Diego. Diego was just as stubborn and just as spiteful but what Diego had over Klaus was self-discipline. When it came to a battle of the wills, Diego would always win. If Klaus was wise (he wasn't), perhaps someday he'd learn not to take on Diego on his home turf. As it was, he'd challenged Diego in a space where he would always win, and now Klaus was paying the price.

Chopping things with a frightfully sharp knife was not nearly as therapeutic as he'd hoped. Rage still simmered inside him, ready to bubble over at the slightest provocation.

And he was still looking for a fight.

"You know," Klaus remarked, slowly picking his way through the bell peppers with one of Diego's kitchen knives, "I could still just walk out."

Diego didn't stop his own preparations, didn't even look at Klaus. That pissed Klaus off.

"Yep," he said shortly. "See if the door is unlocked when you return."

He was being serious. There was no teasing in his tone. 

Something heavy and unpleasant filled Klaus' gut. Klaus could just not return. That had been the plan before. If he didn't return, he wouldn't have to face what it was like to find Diego's door forever locked to him. Klaus could go out, get that hit he so desperately craved. But it was at a price that, for the first time, he might not be willing to pay.

Klaus went back to chopping the stupid vegetables with more force than strictly necessary. He felt clumsy and useless, struggling to cut things the way Diego had shown him. He stubbornly kept at it, staring at the vegetables as if he could glare them into submission.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Klaus swore loudly as he nicked himself with the knife. He threw the stupid blade in frustration, even madder when it didn't embed itself in the wood and just clattered uselessly to the side. He instinctively wrapped his bleeding finger up in his other hand, trying to stem the blood flow.

Diego spun quickly, expression tight. "What did you do?" he asked, reaching out for Klaus' injured hand. He inspected the cut, wrapped it in a paper towel, and returned with a first aid kit in the span of about three seconds. It took him another three to wrap a bandage around Klaus’ finger with steady hands, the action well-practiced.

"There, done," Diego said, returning Klaus' hand and going back to his own work.

Klaus blinked rapidly, trying to recover from the weird emotional whiplash he was experiencing. Some of the roaring in his ears had dissipated. His finger throbbed; the cut hadn't been particularly deep but it still stung. Slowly, he picked up the knife and worked on finishing the bell peppers.

In the time it took him to finish his task, Diego had completed everything else.

"Thanks," Diego took the chopping board from Klaus and adding its contents to the stir fry. "Set the table please."

Klaus didn't protest this time and set about doing it. He felt a little outside of his body, the anger finally dropping to a simmer. It was warm in the room; he kicked his boots off, setting them in the corner where he kept his meagre belongings. He stared at the clothes strewn around the space and folded them, tucking them away too.

"Food's done," Diego said into the silence.

He set a bowl down at Klaus' seat, fixed him with an unwavering look, and said 'eat'. Klaus did, unable to maintain the eye contact.

They ate in silence, tension heavy in the air. It was uncomfortable. Klaus didn't dig his nails into any body part this time; the urge just wasn't there.

It was halfway through his meal that it finally hit Klaus. He wasn't craving a hit anymore. The fiery, manic energy was gone. He'd been so wrapped up in being angry with Diego that he'd entirely forgotten about his urges. He slammed the fork down as a fresh wave of anger swept over him.

"You did that on purpose." Klaus glared.

Diego fixed him with a flat look. He didn't say anything. 

All of the anger drained out of Klaus. Suddenly, he felt like an idiot.

Klaus poked his fingertips with the tines of the fork, mouth twisted and tight. Diego, watching Klaus with a moderately curious expression, kept eating.

"Sorry," Klaus muttered, looking off to the side. He toyed with his food.

Diego sighed heavily and set his bowl back down on the table. He crossed his arms and kicked his legs out in front of him. He was staring at Klaus. Klaus met his eyes a few times as they darted around the room.

"It's…" Diego paused. "It's not… fine. But… I'm glad you're still here."

Klaus grimaced. "Yeah. Same."

Diego watched him for what felt like a lifetime before nodding once and returning to his meal.

Klaus had lost his appetite but continued to pick until his bowl was empty.

  
  
  


Diego told him to help with the dishes. Klaus dried, putting things away as Diego washed. The silence was uncomfortable still.

"How did you know I wouldn't leave?" Klaus asked when they were nearly done.

Diego stopped what he was doing, silent for a few moments. "I didn't."

"Oh."

"But I hoped."

  
  
  


Diego seemed to be taking his little meltdown seriously. He told Klaus to shower. _Accompanied_ him to said shower, as if he might slip away into the night if left unsupervised for more than thirty seconds.

Klaus didn't blame him.

Being told what to do, being given no options, was weirdly soothing. Klaus had a love/hate relationship with commands. Done in the wrong way, and it would remind him of their Dad. But done in other ways, it made his mind a little quieter, gave him something to do when making his own choices felt impossible.

Diego watched him, ankles and arms crossed as he leant against the greying tiles in the gym’s showers. The showers had the same dark atmosphere as the rest of the place. Like Diego's room, it was old, weathered, and dark; but it was surprisingly clean. The showers looked like they'd be perpetually cold, but every time Klaus was pleasantly surprised with how hot they got. It wasn't the same as the baths he liked to take, but at least showering wasn't a miserable experience.

Klaus washed his hair with Diego's products, the smell grounding him.

He couldn't look at Diego, for different reasons this time. He felt weirdly exposed, like Diego could see right through him. It had nothing to do with the physical nakedness. He didn't know why it unsettled him this time. Diego had seen him in far worse positions. He'd been there for some of Klaus' darkest moments, moments that he tried his best not to think about because the guilt choked him.

Vulnerable. Diego made him feel vulnerable.

A flipping, twisting feeling flared in his gut. His mind was mostly quiet, focussed on the shower and the sensation of Diego's unwavering gaze.

When he was done, Diego handed him a towel. Klaus took it with a tight smile, drying and dressing himself as Diego told him. With each order, his head quieted. He'd have to think about what that meant when his brain was working again.

He finished dressing. Diego wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Klaus stiffened and then relaxed, relieved at the touch. Diego pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering before releasing him. Klaus wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to put any pressure on Diego's still healing side.

His heart finally felt like it wasn't going to beat out of his chest with anxiety.

  
  
  


Klaus knelt before Diego, helping him out of his boots as he'd become accustomed to. Diego's side was healing and he masked it well, but Klaus could tell it was still giving him trouble.

It felt like the least he could do, particularly after tonight.

Boots and socks removed, Klaus sat back on his heels. He stayed there for a moment, feeling pinned in the best way by Diego's expression. Diego reached out a hand and cupped Klaus' cheek. Klaus leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. Diego's thumb traced over his lower lip and tugged it from between Klaus' teeth. 

"Next time," Diego said, voice firm and gaze unwavering. "Next time you feel weak, you come to me. You use the resources at rehab, and if they don't help, you come to me. I don't want another repeat of tonight. Understood?"

Klaus' chest was tight. He was unable to look away. Finally, he nodded, picking idly at the seam of Diego's jeans. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," Diego said, voice hoarse. "You can get in bed now."

A little shiver raced up his spine. He climbed up onto the bed, watching as Diego got himself undressed and switched off the remaining lights.

Klaus lay, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, unsure if he was allowed to curl around Diego as he usually did.

"C'mon," Diego said softly, reaching an arm around Klaus. Klaus released a breath he didn't know he was holding and snuggled in. If he buried a few stinging tears in Diego's shoulders, nobody had to know.


	6. Chapter 6

"What are you doing?" Diego's voice was strangled.

Klaus looked up at him from his downward dog pose. "Oh this? Yoga. They've got yoga classes at rehab! Isn't that funny?" He shifted from foot to foot, half in an effort to deepen the stretch, and half to 100% ensure that Diego's attention was entirely on his ass right then. His dog tags hit him in the face. "It's meant to be very good for the mind," he said sagely. "And the body."

"Uh huh. Does it have to be done in your underwear?"

Klaus only wore some bright pink and green briefs that barely covered his ass.

"Yoga really gets a sweat up," Klaus said lightly. "Plus," he huffed, flicking his hair off his face, "this room is kinda hot." His poses were a little stiff, and definitely not aligned or whatever it was that they spouted in classes, but Diego didn't seem to notice. "Besides, I'm not entirely sure you mind," he teased, nodding at where Klaus could definitely tell Diego did not, in fact, mind.

"I'm not very good at it yet," Klaus admitted, righting himself and stretching his arms above his head before letting them drop. "But luckily, I still have another five weeks left. Yay!" He clapped a little and bounced on his toes.

"Yay," Diego cheered flatly.

"Now, now, there's no need to be sarcastic," Klaus mock-scolded him. "Diego a week and a half from now is going to be _very_ happy." He rotated his hips a little and bent forward again. "Makes one nice and…" he eased himself down into cat pose, "flexible."

He glanced up at Diego with what he hoped was an innocent look.

"Glad to hear rehab is going well then," Diego managed, looking as if something was paining him. He was _staring_ and Klaus basked in it.

"Oh brother mine, are you okay?" Klaus asked sweetly.

Diego physically shook himself, eyes a little wider than normal. He stumbled back before crossing the room. "Fine," Diego grouched, yanking his towel from its hook. "Just. Shower." He slammed the door behind him.

Klaus cackled.

*

Diego smelled of beer when Klaus finished with rehab for the day. Huh.

"You okay, man?" Klaus asked cautiously. Diego didn't lean in to kiss him like he usually did, instead only giving him a tired smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Diego said, putting the car into reverse.

They ordered Italian for dinner. Diego didn't like takeout at the best of times, let alone Italian. Halfway through his carbonara, Klaus put his food down.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Hadn't planned on it," Diego said shortly. Klaus could practically see the walls going up.

"Hey, that's not fair," Klaus protested. "You always make me talk to you about what's wrong."

Diego sighed and put down his food. "Nothing's wrong. Just. Bad day. Sick of my ribs. Want to get out there and feel useful again. That's all. It's fine."

Klaus folded his arms across his chest, very quickly on his way to annoyed. "Don't bullshit me. We both know something's wrong. Something more than the ribs."

"Nothing's wrong," Diego repeated, visibly clenching his jaw. "It's fine."

Klaus narrowed his eyes. "Don't be an ass. Talk to me. What's wrong?" 

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Well, now you're just being a hypocritical jagoff. You always make me talk."

"Yeah, because you need someone to listen to you more often than not. I don't. I'm asking you to leave it alone, okay?"

"No, don't give me that. It's not fair that you always make me talk if you won't do it yourself."

Diego exhaled and spoke slowly. "You know what? Fine. Whatever." He stood, as if his ribs weren't still making his life immensely difficult. He didn't say another word, didn't even slam the door when he left.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Klaus grimaced, a pang of guilt flashing through him. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. "Fuck."

  
  
  


"You know, I didn't actually know the first place to go looking for you," Klaus admitted, doing his best not to soften his steps. Diego didn't flinch when Klaus spoke, so if Klaus had surprised him, he wasn't showing it. "Kinda makes me feel bad that I don't know any of your safe spaces anymore."

"I don't _have_ safe spaces," Diego grumbled, eyes trained ahead on the lights of the city. His back was lined with tension. He spun one of his smaller knives, round and round in little flourishes in that way he'd done for as long as Klaus could remember. The movements were certainly more complex now than they had been.

"Don't be ridiculous, everyone has them, regardless of what they're called." Klaus sat beside him on the ledge of the roof, for once grateful that he was sober enough not to have to worry about his balance. 

There was less than a foot of space between him and Diego, but the chasm was gaping.

They sat in silence. It might have been nice up here under better circumstances. The city lights before him glittered and the evening breeze was warm. The world below him was dark. It was beautiful.

Diego kept spinning his knife.

Klaus sighed heavily and picked the threads of his frayed jeans, poking the skin of his leg with cool fingers. "Look, I'm sorry. I… shouldn't have pushed you. I was missing the point. I. I was so focussed on pressuring you to talk that I kinda didn’t notice. That wasn't the point. The point is. You're upset. And I want to help. Because I care. I'm..." He stopped. For someone who spent every spare second he could talking, Klaus was having immense difficulty getting the words out. "I'm sorry. I'm new to this whole…" He waved a hand, as if that explained things. He let his hand drop uselessly into his lap. "This whole caring for others thing." He chuckled weakly. "And I guess I'm pretty useless at the whole apologising thing too. But, uh. For what it's worth? I'm sorry. I'm here if you want to talk."

Somewhere during Klaus' stilted speech, Diego had stopped spinning his knife, letting his hands fall to rest on his knees. He still wasn't looking at Klaus.

Klaus had never been comfortable with silences, had always felt driven to fill them. For once though, he remained quiet. His skin itched and he resisted the urge to shift or to bounce his leg. At least eight different thoughts crossed his mind, and he chose not to verbalise a single one of them.

Diego ran his thumb over the end of the little knife over and over. "It's…" He stopped. Cleared his throat. "Was. It was her birthday."

Was he talking about the lady cop? He had to be. The only other woman that mattered in Diego's life was Mom, and thanks to some alterations in the timeline, she was alive and well at home.

"We hadn't been together in a while. A long while. But she was my friend. She still mattered to me. You don't just- You don't just turn that off." Diego's voice didn’t crack or wobble as he spoke. He delivered the words with surprising monotony. Klaus saw right the fuck through it.

When he was sure that no further words were coming, Klaus shifted over on the ledge and pressed their sides together. Diego relaxed minutely against him.

"Is there any way I can help?" Klaus asked softly, wishing he could pull Diego into his arms. He settled for taking Diego's hand and threading their fingers together.

Diego squeezed his hand. "You already do."

Klaus couldn't say how long they sat silently on the roof, but his skin was cold by the time Diego cleared his throat and suggested that they go inside.

In bed, Klaus tucked Diego in against his neck rather than going for their usual position of Klaus curled around Diego's side. Diego compliantly accepted the embrace. Klaus held him as tightly as his scrawny arms allowed.

If Diego shook a little in the darkness and Klaus' shoulder became just a little damper, well, he wasn't going to say anything. He just kept holding him, running a gentle hand across the back of Diego's scalp in what he hoped was a soothing pattern. Eventually the tension left Diego's shoulders and his breathing evened out. The tightness in Klaus' chest finally eased. Klaus pressed a kiss to the sleeping Diego's forehead, and only then allowed himself to fall asleep.

*

Klaus skipped art therapy that day and decided to head to cooking classes instead. Ben gave a cry of glee. The staff were less enthused.

"I promise," Klaus pleaded, hands grasped in a praying motion. "I won't set the place on fire. You can watch me the whole time."

"We did that last time, and you somehow still managed." Adrian looked weary, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I suppose it's just cookies today. How bad can it be?"

Klaus pumped his fist.

"Famous last words," Jose muttered, shaking his head as he set up another station so Klaus could join them.

Ben hopped up onto the cabinet beside him, kicking his legs excitedly. "I mean, your paintings are getting less shit, but this is far more entertaining."

"Gee, thanks for the support," Klaus huffed, putting on an apron. He ran his hands down it to smooth out the creases. "Do you think Diego would like me in an apron?"

"I think I'd prefer not to think about such things," Ben bit back.

"We're still not having sex," Klaus sighed. After the detective's birthday, Diego had gone back to normal. That was to say, he was his usual grumbling self, who seemed incapable of not lecturing Klaus at least once a day about something. He was also making Klaus jerk off more than he had as a teenager.

"Still don't want to know."

"It's just. I still don't get it. Why wait? We can still go on dates after we've hooked up, if it matters that much to him."

Ben sighed, long-suffering, and then shrugged. "Maybe he's worried you won't."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not exactly known for having the longest attention span. Other than Dave, when was the last time someone held your attention for more than a week or two?"

Klaus ran his eyes over the recipe written on the whiteboard at the front of the room. It looked easy enough. Then again, Klaus managed to burn toaster waffles, so all bets were off.

"I mean, I guess," Klaus huffed, grabbing the butter, some white sugar, and brown sugar. "It's kind of nice doing the dating thing. I haven't gone on many dates." He watched what the others were doing, and began fumbling with putting the electric hand mixer together, twisting the metal thingys several times before they slotted in place. "Did I ever tell you about the time I set my hair on fire?"

"I was there," Ben rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to do a banishing spell on the ghosts, you know, as one does at nine, but the thing is, it involved a _lot_ of candles, and I was bent over too far and _poof_ , hair on fire. It smelled so bad." He laughed at the memory. "Diego made fun of me for a week because I had no eyebrows."

"Okay, I wasn't there for that. I was there for the other time. I do remember you burning off your eyebrows though." His eyes snapped back to Klaus. "What was that about a short attention span?"

Klaus stared at the ceiling, zoning back in. "Oh yeah." He stared at the various cups and spoons in front of him, bringing them each inches from his face so he could make out the numbers and letters on them.

"There's no three-quarters of a cup," Klaus commented, about to raise his hand to ask for one.

Ben dropped his head into his hands. "You use three quarter cups."

"Yes, that's what I'm after."

"No," Ben said, pointing at the smallest cup. "Three of those, dipshit."

"Now, now, there's no need to be rude." Klaus snarked as he carefully poured the sticky brown sugar into the cup. It spilled over the surface, too much to brush onto the floor. He did so anyway.

"Do you think that's it?" Klaus asked after he managed to measure out both sugars successfully.

"Now the butter," Ben said.

"No," Klaus waved off-handedly. "Diego."

"What about him?"

"Do you think he's worried about the attention span thing?"

Ben shrugged. "You could just ask him."

Klaus pulled a face. "Gross." He glanced back at the board. "Okay, butter you said?"

"Yep."

With the butter measured out, he carefully placed the beater into the mess. With one eye closed, leaning back so as to avoid any potential disaster spilling over him, he carefully started the it. When it didn't splatter everywhere, he let himself relax, turning it up the full way. It shot all over him, and he rushed to turn it off.

"What part of 'medium' was that?" Ben laughed, clutching his side as Klaus sagged.

"I didn't see that bit," Klaus whined, wiping his hands over his apron. There wasn't that much butter and sugar over him. It was still salvageable. Maybe.

"It's literally on the first line."

Klaus huffed and tried again, going slower this time.

Adrian came past and helped him to scrape the sides down, making sure the ingredients mixed, or 'creamed' properly. Ha. Creamed. Klaus laughed to himself. When Adrian moved on, after attempting to teach Klaus how to crack an egg without getting shell everywhere (and subsequently teaching him how to remove eggshell from egg yolk without covering himself in it), Klaus turned back to Ben.

"Do _you_ think I'll lose interest after?" Klaus pondered, tongue poking out as he eased the beater back on.

Ben shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe this time it’ll be different. Or maybe it has nothing to do with that and he really just likes dating, or just wants to keep you sober. Man's a mystery to me, too."

Klaus frowned, watching the eggs progressively mix with the sugar and butter, colour changing as he went.

The idea of losing interest in Diego felt unfathomable. The only thing Klaus had ever been interested in for longer was, well, drugs and booze. His feelings had been stronger at various points in time, ebbing at others, but Klaus had always had _something_ for Diego, even when he hadn't had the words for it.

Did Diego know that?

Klaus grimaced to himself. He hoped he wouldn't have to _tell_ him. Klaus wasn't good with feelings.

Flour was next. Klaus was less careful with his measurements this time. It'd be fine.

"Maybe you should try mixing it a little so you don't-," Ben began, his voice cut off by the sound of Klaus starting the beater at full speed again.

He should have expected the shower of white powder.

"Usually, when I'm covered in white stuff, I prefer it to be a little different," Klaus said forlornly.

  
  


Despite several further mishaps, Klaus managed to not set the kitchen on fire. He didn't even burn the cookies, he was proud to say, but only because he sat with his face inches from the oven the entire fourteen minutes required to bake them.

They didn't even taste terrible, but Klaus knew that from the small handful of dough he'd eaten as he rolled them into little balls.

The cookies looked a little misshapen and a little flat, but they tasted good, they weren't burnt, and he hadn't set off any smoke alarms.

"I'm counting this as an absolute win," Klaus grinned at Ben, taking another cookie. "Here, I'll eat yours for you."

"Thanks," Ben said sourly.

  
  
  


The cookies seemed to confuse Diego. He blinked at them for several long minutes when Klaus presented them proudly. He brushed some of the flour from Klaus' forehead, tugging a newly formed curl.

"I thought you were banned from the cooking classes," Diego said, still perplexed. He took a cookie from the plate anyway and bit into it cautiously.

"I made a very good case," Klaus told him huffily.

"You mean you nagged," Ben said.

"Quiet, you," he snapped back, with little vitriol. He nodded at Diego again. "Very convincing. All those acting lessons paid off."

"You've never had acting lessons," Diego said slowly, as if searching his memories. "Have you?"

"No," Klaus conceded. He held the plate up for Diego to take another.

Diego took one with a little smile, looking oddly proud. "They're not bad."

Klaus wondered if he was glowing; he certainly felt like he was glowing.

Diego's hand settled at the small of Klaus’ back as they walked to the car, warm and comforting through Klaus' thin tank top.

"I'm sorry these are ruining your temple," Klaus said as Diego opened the door for him. "But they weren't making joyless, soulless food today. Maybe next week."

Diego shut the door with a little more force than strictly necessary.

"You eat my joyless, soulless food with very little complaint," he pointed out as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Only because there's no other option," Klaus said, patting his bare arm. It was hot enough that Diego wasn't in his usual long-sleeves, or even a t-shirt; he wore only a tank top and Klaus was absolutely _here_ for it. He let his hand linger on the warm skin of his arm until Diego raised a single eyebrow at him. Klaus let his hand drop.

"A few more days," Klaus muttered to himself. "Just a few more days."


	7. Chapter 7

"Diego, so lovely to see you again so soon. Klaus, it's been a while," Mom said, kissing both of them on the cheeks.

"Sorry, Mom," Klaus said. "I'll try to visit more often."

"Now, now," she assured, resting a hand on his forearm. "I know you children are all grown-up and have your own lives now. Diego tells me you've been busy with rehab. I'm so proud of you. Can I get you a drink?"

Klaus shook his head. "No, but can I use the kitchen?"

"Of course. Can I make you a snack?"

"Actually," Klaus said, following after her, "I was thinking I could bake something. We're having dinner because Allison's in town, right? I was thinking I could…" He trailed off. It had seemed like a much better idea at the time.

Diego, who’d disappeared to grab something from his old room, entered the kitchen as Grace was helping Klaus to find the various ingredients he needed.

He stopped short. "Wait, are those _my_ sweatpants?" Diego asked, cocking his head to the side.

Klaus glanced down, shimmying a little. "Yes, I was surprised they fit too!" He indicated where he'd drawn the drawstring in a little tighter.

"Don't you have your own clothes?"

"Yes, but I don't own _sweatpants_. Jesus, Diego, what kind of animal do you take me for?"

Diego grumbled something Klaus couldn’t make out.

"I figured you were fine with it when you didn't comment sooner."

Diego's eyes hadn't left Klaus' exposed hips. They snapped up to his face. "I was distracted."

Klaus winked at him as he spread the ingredients out, double checking he had everything he needed.

"Hey Mom, do you need a hand with anything?" Diego asked, going to help her despite her insistence that she had everything under control.

Klaus got significantly fewer ingredients on himself this time, remembering at least two of the lessons from the class. It was weirdly nice, working in the kitchen, listening to Ben as he guided Klaus through the process, Diego and Mom working around him.

"I'm going to go and tidy up," Mom said brightly after Klaus had slid the tray carefully into the oven. "Thank you for your help, Diego. Klaus, those cookies look wonderful."

Klaus knew she was probably programmed to say that but he beamed nonetheless. He turned around to find Diego very close to him.

"Oh, hello," Klaus breathed, pleased.

"Okay, nope, I'm out," he heard Ben say distantly, just before Diego's mouth was on his.

Thirty days couldn't come soon enough, not with the way Diego kissed him. Diego lifted him easily onto the countertop, bringing Klaus' legs around him.

"I shouldn't find you wearing my things so hot. It'll only encourage you," Diego mumbled as he left a trail of hot kisses up Klaus' throat.

"I just didn't want to get flour on my things again," Klaus admitted breathily, tilting his head to give Diego more access.

"That should piss me off, but…" Diego's hands gripped his hips, dipping just below the edge of the waistband.

Through the thin material of Klaus' pants, he could feel Diego getting hard against him. Klaus wrapped his legs around him tighter, desperate for _any_ friction.

"C'mon Diego. Fuck me," Klaus whispered, already needy. "Like, I'd say you have issues getting it up, but I can tell you don't." He pressed his hips against Diego's to make his point. "Is it that you come too fast? Is that it?"

Diego chuckled. "Trust me. Not an issue."

"Then I cannot possibly think of why you'd choose to torture us both this way! Are you a masochist? Is that it?"

"I think that's you, baby boy, not me."

"Into some obscure form of edging?"

Diego paused between kisses to actually consider this. "Into edging. Not of this variety though." He gave Klaus a wicked look that reassured him that Klaus was likely to become very familiar with that particular kink in the coming weeks.

Klaus shivered.

Diego leaned in and bit his ear. "Sweetheart," Diego began, voice low, "I'm going to _wreck_ you."

Klaus moaned, dick twitching. He gripped Diego's shoulders and pulled him in. "Oh god, you better," he got out against Diego's mouth. "God, you're killing me." Klaus dragged his fingers up Diego's back, pushing his painfully tight t-shirt up as he went. "Please, c'mon. I've nearly made it. We've gone on three dates. Isn't that the rule? Three dates before you put out?"

"Depends who's making the rules. I thought you liked it when I made rules for you, baby."

Klaus made a strangled sound and hitched his leg higher up Diego's waist.

"I thought you liked it when I told you what to do," Diego breathed, brushing his nose against Klaus' temple as his hand came to rest at the back of Klaus’ neck. He squeezed gently.

"Jesus Christ." He grabbed the front of Diego's shirt and yanked him in for another desperate kiss.

"Maybe someday soon," Diego continued, "I'll have you on your knees for me. Tell you everything I want you to do for me. Make you touch yourself for me." Klaus whined high in his throat. "Make you edge yourself until you're begging, all sweet and pretty, for me. Think you could do that, Klaus?" Klaus' nails dug into Diego's shoulders. "Or maybe I'll have you all spread out, eat you out until you're crying for it, and then stop at the last second. You think this kind of edging is bad? Wait until you see what I'm going to do to you."

Diego's hips were moving against his and Klaus wondered through the haze in his mind if maybe Diego _was_ about to give in, was about to give him what he desperately wanted. Fuck, Klaus was so close, he just needed a little more and—

The timer on the oven started beeping, loud and shrill. Klaus almost jumped out of his skin, cursing. He sobbed dryly, only partially in jest, and let his head rest against Diego's shoulder for the briefest moment before hurriedly getting up to check on the cookies.

By the time he'd removed the perfectly golden cookies from the oven, his boner had gone down. Thank god.

He glared over at a dishevelled Diego. Diego grinned back at him, opening his mouth to say something, when Five flashed into the kitchen by the fridge.

And that was the end of that.

"Klaus," Five said by way of greeting, opening the fridge and grabbing orange juice. "Diego." He took a swig from the bottle, like a _heathen_ , chugging several large mouthfuls before he finally actually looked at them.

A smug look crossed his face. "You're looking well, Klaus. Wish I could say the same for you, Diego."

"Nice to see you too, bro," Diego said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I saw you on Wednesday."

"Lucky me." 

Five flashed around the kitchen, gathering supplies for a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich.

"Hey, Mom's cooking dinner already," Diego protested.

"Yes, but I'm hungry, _now_."

"Yeah, and I made cookies," Klaus pouted. He wanted to eat one, but he had learned the hard way that they did not substantially cool down in under a minute.

Five raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "And yet the house is still standing. Colour me impressed."

Diego stood up straighter, shifting the weight in his feet. "Are you physically incapable of being nice or is that a choice you actively make?"

"This _is_ me being nice," Five snapped, cleaning the knife of peanut butter with his teeth.

"It really is," Klaus agreed.

"Right. I said I was impressed. If I wanted to insult him I would have gone with-,"

"Hey," Diego cut him off.

Five rolled his eyes and turned to face Klaus, sizing him up quickly. "Sobriety suits you."

Holy shit. He really _was_ being nice. Klaus clutched his chest, a touch overcome. "Well, thank you." He made a move to hug Five.

"Nope!" Five zapped out of the room.

Diego huffed and started to clean up the mess Five had left. "Fifty-fucking-eight years old and still can't clean up after himself," he grumbled as he closed the jar of peanut butter again. He grabbed a cookie as he tidied up, hissing as it burned his fingertips and then his mouth.

"Worth it," Diego said around the mouthful of cookie.

Klaus couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of him.

  
  
  


Klaus’ room was cold. Even in the midst of summer (which, Jesus, it almost was--when had that happened?), his room had always felt cold. Maybe it was because there were more ghosts in here. Maybe it was just the weird insulation.

He sat down on the bed, suddenly tired. The room still smelled of patchouli, sage, and weed. It may as well have been Klaus' signature scent. He breathed it in deeply, wondering if he could get high off the lingering scent of weed and whether that would be considered cheating.

Maybe he should have taken Diego up on the offer to come with him. No, no. Diego had been helping Mom, chatting with an ease reserved only for her. He'd seemed happy. It was just his bedroom; he'd be fine.

Klaus had just come up to get some clothes. Much as he liked wearing Diego's things, there was only so much shapelessness Klaus could pull off. Besides, it was getting hot and he needed something lighter than what he'd been wearing.

It was just… hard to get off the bed. He felt heavier now, weighed down by too many memories, both in and out of his room. It was like there was something sitting on his chest. He realised he was dragging the dog tags back and forth on their chain as the metal cut into the side of his neck. He let his hands fall to his lap.

Diego had been right to get him out of here. It had been good for him. Sobriety was hard more days than not; but part of him was beginning to hope that maybe this time was for real. Klaus, for the first time in his life, felt good about the future.

Even with Dave, there had been worry, a feeling like he needed to return to his own time, the constant sense that their time together was limited. The future had loomed, terrifying and always too close. Klaus had thrown himself into it with all that he had, wanting no regrets if, _when_ , he returned.

Despite everything that had happened, he didn't regret anything about Dave.

And he didn't regret anything about Diego either. A part of Klaus wondered if he was betraying Dave's memory by moving on. A larger part of him knew the kind of man Dave had been; it would matter more to him that Klaus moved on and learned how to be happy with someone new, rather than forever grieving a ghost or trying to summon someone who would never come.

Diego's home wasn't full of ghosts. It was warm. It had always been safe, no matter the circumstance.

Klaus closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. He wiped at the few tears that had fallen, remembering a second too late that he was wearing mascara in addition to his usual kohl. Whatever. His family had seen him in worse states than a little smeared makeup. He inhaled, managing to find the strength to stand and walk across the room to his wardrobe. He flicked through various items, pondering this and that. His chest still felt too tight and the coldness of the room was beginning to settle into his bones. He wrapped a soft shawl around his shoulders as he picked various items from his wardrobe and threw them on the bed.

The next time he turned around, there was a middle-aged man staring vacantly at his door. Klaus sighed.

Okay. 

He could do this. He was getting better at this. 

He was just so fucking _tired_ of having to do this.

He didn't have to do this. He could just let the man stand there. It was how he'd dealt with them for 30 years; nothing said he had to change.

Except... Klaus _wanted_ to change. He wanted to be less afraid all the fucking time.

He took a few fortifying breaths. When he opened his eyes, the man was still there.

"Hey there," Klaus said, forcing cheer into his voice. The man startled, no longer staring out of the room. He turned empty eyes to Klaus. Blood ran down the side of his head. Klaus swallowed. "What's your name?" 

The man talked, slow at first, then faster, warming to Klaus as his stilted words went on. Ben had told him once that being near Klaus was the only time it felt warm in death. Seeing the man talk was like watching someone defrost.

"Hold on, just a sec there," Klaus said, interrupting him. He held up a sheer tank top with polka-dots on it. "What do you think of this?"

"Um?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll leave it." He hung it back up and waved at the man. "As you were."

He was silent for a good ten seconds before he started going again.

They continued like that for a while. Klaus could feel the strange tingling in his bones but it felt sluggish, as if his abilities were stunted by how fucking miserable this house made him.

The man didn't disappear in a blink like some of the ghosts had. Mandy had been the easiest, and it had set him up for disappointment when each subsequent ghost hadn't been as simple. Klaus had had practice. There were a few ghosts that had shown their faces around rehab. Ghosts, in rehab. Who'd have thought?

Slowly, the man faded from the room, leaving Klaus a little lightheaded. He let his head rest on his wardrobe, focussing on the in-out of breathing until it passed. The room was a touch warmer now. He exhaled in a  _ whoosh _ and pushed himself upright again. His upper lip was damp. When he wiped at it, blood came away on his fingers. It wasn't the first time; it definitely wouldn't be the last time.

Well, this had just been an all around good time, really.

He changed his outfit for dinner, bones aching with tiredness. He slapped his face a few times, trying to find the energy necessary to get through a family dinner.

There was a quiet tap at his partially open door.

"It's me," Allison offered.

Klaus pulled the door open, grateful for the distraction.

"Hi!" he proclaimed, throwing his arms around her in a big hug.

"Hi," Allison laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return. "This is nice."

"What?"

"I don't know. You're actually hugging me?"

"I always hug you," Klaus pouted, pulling away to look at her.

"Yeah, but you don't always mean it." She laughed again. She held him at arm's length as she studied him. "I mean, aside from the blood and the mascara, you're looking really good, Klaus," she said genuinely.

Klaus batted his eyelashes. "Why,  _ danke _ . You always look good. But you don't need me to tell you that."

Her eyes travelled behind him. "Jesus, what happened in here?"

"I've worn the same five outfits for the last month. Thought I'd get the summer wardrobe ready."

"It looks like a bomb hit this place," Allison said around a giggle. She held up a little white dress and frowned. "No, not this one. It's not your colour."

Klaus gasped and snatched it from her. "How dare you?! Everything's my colour!" He looked at it. "No, fine, I suppose you’re right." He threw it behind him into the reject pile with a huff.

Allison helped him sort through the bits and pieces, narrowing down what he would actually wear. Diego's place was small and certainly didn't have enough space for Klaus' entire clothing collection.

They'd finished folding the clothes he was taking into something that could have resembled a neat pile, and were rehanging the rest of it when there was another knock on the door.

"Am I interrupting?" Diego asked, hovering at the edge of the room.

"We were just finishing," Klaus told him, nodding at the pile.

Diego frowned and cocked his head to the side as he stared intently at Klaus' face.

"What happened here?" His hand came up to brush the smudges on Klaus’ cheeks. His eyes lingered on what had to be the blood Klaus had missed wiping off.

"Oh, you know, the usual." Klaus laughed wetly, waving a hand as if he could dismiss Diego's concern with ease. "Memories, ghosts, the usual."

"Another?"

Klaus nodded, grounded by the calloused hand on his face. "Was harder this time. But you know me, always up for a challenge."

"You hate challenges," Diego chuckled.

"I know, it's bullshit. I'm motivated by spite, blowjobs, and little else," Klaus said airily.

"That's more like it." Diego let his hand drop from Klaus' cheek.

Allison's grin was poorly concealed. "So, um," she said, clearing her throat. "Um, Klaus was telling me how well he's been doing at rehab. I was thinking I could drop by on Wednesday before my flight?"

Klaus pulled a face. "Oh god, not even Diego's done that."

"Oh yeah," Diego breathed, a wicked grin crossing his face as if the thought had only just occurred to him.

"Great! Let's make a date of it!"

Klaus hissed.

  
  
  


"I like the curls," Vanya said, miming pulling a curl over her forehead.

Klaus glanced up. "Yeah, I don't really know where they came from. I guess that's what happens when you steal Diego's conditioner." He laughed giddily. God, he was fucking tired. The coffee Grace had given him wasn't helping.

"Wait, Diego uses conditioner?" Allison asked, surprised. "Like, actually owns and uses conditioner?"

"Hey, fuck you too," Diego said with far less of his usual vitriol.

Klaus shrugged. "I don't know if he uses it. I just know he owns it because I steal it." He ran a hand through the hair falling across his forehead, a crease between his eyebrows. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the curls, but his hair had always kinda just done its own thing, regardless of his opinions on the matter.

He returned his attention to his food, trying to make himself eat enough that Diego would stop shooting him a Look with a capital L. It was just one of those days where Klaus wasn't hungry; the ghost whispering hadn't helped either.

"Well," Allison said warmly, giving him a look that screamed Motherly Pride, "I like them, Diego's conditioner or otherwise. I know I said this before, but you really do look _good_ , Klaus."

Klaus tilted his head and batted his eyelashes as he accepted the praise. "You'd be amazed at what three meals a day and a comfy bed can do for a person," he said loftily, as if he'd discovered the secret to life itself.

"Aren't you staying with Diego?" Luther asked, confused.

"Yes?"

"That's… comfortable?"

"Oh, very. Although, if I keep eating the way I have been, I'm not going to fit into my jeans anymore," he said mournfully, glancing down.

"Oh my god, you're so dramatic," Allison laughed. "Just accept the compliment and move on."

"But Allison, my leather pants!"

"Will still fit."

"I suppose I could always steal Diego's clothes."

Diego stiffened beside him. "Your skinny ass couldn't fill out these jeans if you tried."

"Speaking of asses," Five said, slurring a touch. That lying bastard _was_ hiding vodka in that soda. "Diego seems like he has less of a stick up his. He’s only yelled at Luther twice today. Maybe rehab is doing you both good."

"I'll yell at _you_ if you're not careful," Diego shot back.  


"What we're _trying_ to say," Allison said archly, cutting them off before things could devolve into bickering, "is that we're proud of you." She gave Diego a meaningful look. "Whatever it is that you're doing, it's obviously working. You both seem… happier. It's nice. We support you both, whatever it is."

Diego nodded at her, eyes going back to his empty plate.

  
  
  


Mom had already made dessert before they'd arrived, but they took Klaus' (Amazing! Incredible! Unburned!) cookies into the living room after. There were mocktails (bless!), and the coffee that Klaus had had before dinner had worn off enough that Klaus was content to lean back against Diego's chest and kick his feet over the edge of the sofa.

He drifted in and out of the conversation, eyes half-lidded, enjoying the feel of Diego's fingers rubbing at his scalp.

"Dare I ask?" Five jerked his head Klaus and Diego's way.

"They've always been like this," Allison said with a wry twist to her mouth. "Klaus has always been an attention whore and Diego was the only one who actually gave him attention. It was even worse after they hit puberty."

Klaus knew without looking that Five was pulling a face. 

Diego shrugged, not stopping the slow way his fingers ran through Klaus' hair. When Klaus glanced up, Diego's eyes were closed, as if he too were on his way to sleep.

Klaus lay back again, dozing as he circled his finger around where Diego's side was progressively healing. Sprawled across Diego, Klaus could feel the second he tensed.

"I'm just saying, I don't think it's right to sell off everything. There's more than enough there already," Luther was saying.

"Good god, man, even after everything, you're still wanting to hold onto the old bastard?" Diego groaned.

"No, I don't," Luther argued. "Maybe I don't want to see everything from our childhood gone, when there isn't an actual need."

"Why would anyone want to hold onto—"

"Because it was ours."

Suddenly there were four voices going at once, Luther, Diego, Allison, Five. Klaus couldn't make out more than snippets and each phrase was nonsensical given the lack of context.

He mentally shrugged to himself, shifting so that less weight was on his hip.

"Klaus," Diego poked his side with more force than Klaus was expecting.

He squawked. "What?!"

"What's your vote?"

Klaus blinked sleepily. "Why're we voting?"

Luther made a sound of frustration and Diego rolled his eyes.

"What?" Klaus snapped. "I never know what's going on around here."

"Yeah, but you can't use the excuse that you're high now," Luther said.

"I'm not. I just don't care," Klaus said airily. "What are we voting on?"

"Do we sell off certain things that Dad left us, or leave them be?" Vanya explained. It was the first time Klaus had heard her voice since the ruckus had started.

"Dad left us things?"

"Jesus," Five muttered. "Yes, you idiot. We told you about this weeks ago."

"Was I high _then_?"

"Probably."

"Ah, there's your problem." He didn't stifle his yawn. "Sell everything. Sell the whole fucking house for all I care. Fuck the bastard."

Diego snorted unattractively. "Right on," he said, raising his fist for Klaus to fist bump him.

"What's the vote at?" Klaus asked.

"Voting along party lines, as per usual."

"Ah."

"Should he even get a vote?" Luther asked. "He doesn't even get his for another year at least."

Klaus sat up suddenly. Diego hissed and winced when Klaus knocked his still healing ribs.

"What?"

Luther looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"I guess you don't remember that from the conversation either."

Klaus flopped back dramatically, remembering at the last second to be mindful of Diego's injuries. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Klaus huffed. "Even in death, the prick managed to fuck me over one last time. What's the stipulation?"

"Sobriety, for a year."

"Ugh, gross. Whatever, keep the money. Diego, you'll be my sugar daddy, right?"

Diego snorted and patted his head condescendingly. "Sure, baby. Nice to know you only love me for my money."

  
  
  


"How much money is it?" Klaus asked, resting his head against the window of Diego's car.

Diego told him.

Klaus whistled and then gave a mournful cry. "That would have bought _so_ much weed."

Diego patted his knee.

Klaus rolled his head to look at Diego, studying his shadowy face.

"What?"

"You really do seem happier. That's all," Diego said, turning his attention back to the car. 

Klaus tried to hide his smile, but if Diego's tiny, hopeful smile was any indication, he probably wasn't successful. Totally worth it. 


	8. Chapter 8

Klaus threw himself into the car, flashing the little chip he held between two fingers. "I'm going to climb you like a fucking tree the second we get home." His face hurt from grinning.

Diego gave him a wolfish grin and curled a hand around the back of his neck, kissing him with surprising gentleness. "I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well, I've hit thirty before. I'm just excited to get dicked the fuck down."

"You've such a way with words. Really."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real poet. Now, step on it."

  
  
  


"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, hurry up." Klaus jumped from foot to foot as Diego took his sweet-ass time unlocking the door to the boiler room. "You're doing this on purpose."

Diego's grin was smug. "Do you maybe want to wait a bit? Not just jump right into bed the second we get inside? Maybe I should take you out to dinner. I'd say this calls for a celebration. We could try one of those places with a good mocktail menu, like we discussed."

Klaus glared with as much heat as he could muster. "I know you think I'm easily distracted, which, in your defence is entirely accurate. But not this time."

Diego finally opened the door, letting Klaus breeze past him first.

"Okay, well, in that case…" Diego grabbed him by the wrist, pinning him to the door. His mouth hovered over Klaus'. "I'm proud of you," he said again before kissing Klaus sweetly, with none of the heat Klaus expected. By the time he was done, Klaus was weak in the knees, breathless, and trembling a little.

"Holy shit." Klaus' voice cracked like it hadn't done since puberty. Diego's fingers rested on Klaus' cheeks and brought him back into another kiss, this one headier than the last. Diego was firm and hard against him, skin warm from the summer's day. His hands left Klaus' face and trailed down his sides.

"You know," Diego said, hands resting on Klaus' hips. "I thought that fucking skirt was bad enough… But these…" He dug his thumbs under the waistline of the short-shorts Klaus wore. "These will be the death of me."

Klaus giggled before gasping as Diego's fingers skirted around the front, just above where he needed them.

"Bed. Now."

  
  
  


Klaus was going to die. This was it. This was how he was going to fucking die. He was going to die with his asshole brother's fingers slowly but surely taking him apart.

"C'mon," Klaus whispered for what had to be the hundredth time. His voice was hoarse. "Please. I said please. What more do you want?"

Diego, the bastard, could not be swayed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tattoo on Klaus' sternum. He curled his fingers over and over, making Klaus' eyes roll back in his head as his back arched.

"If I come before I get you in me, I'm going to be so upset," Klaus managed through moans. His hands twisted in the sheets, every muscle in his body tight and trembling.

"I dunno, I don't know that you want it bad enough," Diego said lightly.

Klaus tried to glare, he really did. He wasn't sure how effective it was, given that Diego just laughed, though not unkindly. Klaus' head fell back as he surrendered to the sensations again, unable to stop the overwhelming waves of pleasure. 

When he managed to find his words again, he said, "C'mon, three fingers is enough, I can take it."

Diego looked down at where he was hard, then back to Klaus. "Yeah, no." He twisted his fingers and rubbed furiously against the spot inside Klaus that made him weak, making him cry out, before easing back again. His tone was teasing. "Besides, you feel pretty tight to me. Don't wanna hurt you." His hair was falling over his forehead, skin gleaming with sweat. "You know why?" He punctuated his words with particularly vicious twists of his fingers.

Klaus shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away. Diego looked beautiful like this, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows above the bed.

"Because," Diego said, voice still soft, "I'm going to wreck you, sweetheart. Tonight. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow night. Every day. And I need you to be able to take it. And I can't ruin you in every way I know how if I've hurt you." He bit gently at Klaus' nipple, making him gasp.

Tears Klaus hadn't known he'd had began to leak out of the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed. Diego's expression softened and he leaned up Klaus' body, easing his fingers out. He kissed Klaus' temples before going to his mouth. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Klaus nodded, breathless as Diego pressed his fingers in again, this time adding a fourth. Klaus sobbed.

When Diego finally pressed in, Klaus lost all ability to speak. Diego's eyes met his for a breathless second. Klaus' chest felt tight. Diego kissed him, just once, and then Klaus was kicking him in the back with his twisted ankles.

"Move." Klaus tried to make it sound demanding, but it only came out breathy and soft.

Diego's grin was shit-eating.

Klaus was _not_ going to admit that he was grateful for all the extra prep time; Diego's ego was big enough. But, holy shit. All Klaus could do was hold on for dear life as Diego moved.

His nails dug into Diego's back, scratching as Klaus writhed. Diego's mouth latched onto Klaus' shoulder, teeth digging into muscle and making Klaus cry out.

"Fuck, fuck, oh. Fuck. Fuck me, fuck." Klaus seemed incapable of anything else right then. Every time a thought entered his mind, it was fucked right back out of him.

Diego sat back on his heels and dragged Klaus into his lap. The way Diego ran his hands down Klaus' sides contrasted sharply with the brutal way Klaus was being taken apart. Diego's fingers dug into his hips. Klaus' back arched again and he bit his lip so hard he feared it would break skin. 

Fucking worth it.

Diego brought Klaus' ankles around over his shoulders, bending him in half as he did his best to fuck Klaus through the mattress.

Klaus, unable to find his words, reached out for Diego's hand and brought it to his throat. Diego's eyes widened a touch before he gave a breathy chuckle. He squeezed and Klaus shuddered happily.

Needing more, that one final push, Klaus groped for his cock, jerking himself off, grip on the right side of painful. Oh god, his head was spinning, and every nerve in his body was alight, and _god_ , Diego felt so fucking good in him. Soft little grunts escaped Diego as he moved, and fuck, Klaus was going to spend hours trying to coax more sound from him. 

Klaus dragged in heaving breaths, trying to breathe, trying to bring Diego closer, feel him across every inch of his body. All he could do was spew a litany of curse words, as everything in the world zeroed down to their two bodies, and the heat that consumed him. 

It felt like his orgasm was punched out of him, stealing what little of his breath that he had left. Diego's fingers tightened around his throat. Klaus shuddered and shook, world going white. Diego's hand loosened and he bent forward, biting Klaus' shoulder as he went tense.

And then, it was silent and still. Diego shifted just enough that he could kiss Klaus again, slow and deep. Klaus somehow found the strength to bring his clean hand up, brushing his fingers over the stubble at Diego's jaw. When Diego pulled away, he brushed his nose against Klaus'. He looked… happy. Happy was the only way to describe it. It made something warm unfurl in Klaus' chest.

Klaus let Diego pull away, stretching languidly on the bed. "So…" He dragged the word out, catching Diego's eye. "How soon until we can do that again?"

Diego laughed.

*

Klaus woke to a gentle rocking behind him. He groaned. The rising sun filled the room with a soft orange glow. It might have been beautiful if he didn't fucking hate mornings.

"No," he protested sleepily. "Five more minutes?"

Diego kissed down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. His chest was pressed against Klaus' back, warm and close. He was hard, minute movements of the hips letting Klaus feel just how badly Diego wanted him.

 _Oh_.

"I mean, you could to back to sleep if you wanted," Diego teased as he nuzzled against Klaus' ear, voice rough with the morning.

"Uh-uh. Nope." Klaus wouldn't say he felt more awake suddenly, but he was _definitely_ interested in where this was going.

"Thought so." He could hear Diego's grin. Smug bastard. Diego reached up and Klaus heard the quiet rustle as Diego extracted a condom from the box beside the bed, then the flipping of a cap. A few moments later he felt slick fingers pressing into him, achingly gentle where Klaus, loathe though he was to admit it, was tender. Diego had certainly made good on his promise to wreck him more than once the night before. Klaus exhaled, a happy little sound rumbling in his throat as Diego prepped him.

He buried his quiet moan in the pillow when Diego slowly pushed inside.

"Feels good," Klaus murmured sleepily, tilting his head so that Diego could kiss him once, twice.

"Yeah."

Diego fucked him slowly, leaving sweet kisses against his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around him. Despite his steady pace, the intensity grew and the kisses turned to nips, then to bites. Klaus shook. It was so much more gentle than Klaus could ever have expected from Diego. It was dizzying, a slow crest, rising, rising, _rising_. It left him gasping and whimpering at the heady intensity. He swore softly, pleading with Diego for more, telling him how good it felt. His words were soft. Klaus had never overly felt the need to be quiet, but there was something about the stillness of the early morning that begged not be disturbed.

He realised distantly, through the haze of pleasure, that he'd twined the fingers of one hand between Diego's and was gripping hard. The other had found the short strands of Diego's hair, keeping him as close as possible. Diego held him like he was something precious; it made a terrifying feeling stick in his throat. For one of the first times in his life, he didn't want to run away from it. 

As he neared his peak, he pulled Diego's hand to his neck. Diego made a surprised sound.

"You like it that much, huh?" Diego's voice was rough.

Klaus nodded, moaning as Diego found his grip and tightened. The sensuous roll of his hips quickened. Diego's breath against his neck sharpened as he suppressed moans against Klaus back. His other hand trailed down Klaus' front, found his cock, curling around and jerking slowly. Klaus' head fell back against Diego's shoulder, muscles trembling.

Klaus' orgasm washed over him, steady and strong, breath choking out of him. He felt Diego relax minutely before increasing his movements, harder for a few thrusts as he met his end. His groan was stifled against Klaus' shoulder with a sharp bite into muscle that made Klaus shudder.

They stayed that way as they caught their breath.

"And you're sure I have to go to rehab today?" Klaus clarified, finally breaking the silence.

Diego snorted a laugh. They'd been over it several times the night before.

"I just feel like spending the day in bed with you would be better for my mental health."

"Don't even," Diego warned him, although his tone betrayed his amusement. Klaus rolled over so that they were facing each other.

It was always strange seeing happiness in Diego's face. Klaus had seen it many times over the years, little smiles reserved only for Klaus and their Mom. Every time he saw it, it felt like a pleasant surprise, like Diego was letting him in on a secret only they knew.

Klaus pouted, widening his eyes and contemplating for a moment making them shine with tears. "Please?" He rolled his hips. It had the opposite effect of what he was going for as Diego grimaced. Oh yeah, Klaus had forgotten he was still covered in come.

"Well, that didn't go to plan," Klaus huffed.

Diego chuckled. "Go shower. I'll get started on breakfast."

Klaus sulkily obeyed.

  
  
  


The grass tickled the back of Klaus' neck, the skin of his back that his tank top didn't cover, his arms. The sun felt good on his cool skin but would almost certainly give way to sunburn if he lay outside much longer.

"Why can't you sit like a normal person?" Ben asked. He was sitting on the bench, staring at where Klaus had propped his feet up beside him.

"What's so unusual about this?" Klaus asked airily from his position on the ground, and kicked in Ben's general direction.

Ben didn't deign to answer. "Can we do cooking class today? I'm bored."

Klaus exhaled the smoke he'd been holding. "Nah, I feel like painting today. I'm happy and shit. My heart is aflutter."

"I don't care."

"I got the D last night."

"The amount I do not want to know-,"

"I'd say it was worth the wait," Klaus continued as if he couldn't hear Ben's protests. "But if I think too hard about that, then I get pissed off I haven't been getting it for the last month."

"Please stop."

"So I'd suggest not hanging out in the boiler room for the foreseeable future." Klaus took another drag and grinned.

"Good to know." Ben's voice couldn't be drier if he tried.

It was silent as Klaus went back to smoking his cigarette and staring at the few white clouds that dotted the otherwise blue sky.

"We can do cooking tomorrow," Klaus said eventually, letting his arms drop to his sides.

"Excellent." Ben sounded far too pleased at that. "I hope it's something hard."

"You're an asshole, you know that right?"

"I do my best."

  
  
  


In art, Klaus painted in vibrant greens and blues and yellows and purples. It didn't make much sense, but it didn't have to.

*

Klaus stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath. Diego lay beside him in a similar state. Klaus' fingers found Diego's, twining them together. He pushed himself onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Diego didn't move but his eyes tracked Klaus' movements.

When he was able to speak again , he said, "So, for our date this weekend, I was thinking the beach. Maybe a picnic. It's been hot as balls, and I bet you'd look so good in one of those itty bitty swimsuits." He mimed exactly how little he was thinking.

A range of emotions crossed Diego's face. He exhaled and pushed himself up onto his side as well; he didn't let go of Klaus' hand. His thumb began to stroke the back of Klaus' hand in little circles.

"Another date?" His tone betrayed nothing.

"Well, I figure we've got a good tradition going. Seems silly to stop it now. I'm serious about the Speedo by the way. Don't think you're escaping that one."

"I'm not wearing a Speedo," Diego said flatly.

"We'll discuss this later."

"It's not up for discussion."

"Shhhh," Klaus said, putting a finger to Diego's lips. Diego bit it gently. Klaus glared as he pulled his hand away. "Is that a 'yes' on the beach idea?"

Diego chuckled and lay back down. "I suppose I could clear my schedule."

Klaus beamed. "If it incentivises you any, _I'm_ wearing a Speedo."

"It does not. But duly noted." Diego lay back down, pillowing his head with his arm.

Klaus rolled onto his stomach and shifted so he could prop his head up on Diego's chest. He dug his chin into Diego's sternum just to be a shit.

Diego pulled a face. "Did you have to get jizz all over the bedspread?"

Klaus shrugged. "It's fine, my boyfriend will wash it later." He patted Diego's chest.

Diego raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"

"Three dates equals boyfriends. Or was it three dates equals fucking? Or both? I never know which rule is which." He paused, staring up at the wall. "I've never been very good with rules," he said mournfully.

Diego snorted. "You're an idiot." He pulled Klaus in for a brief kiss.

"But your idiot, right?"

Diego gave him the secret smile that Klaus loved. "Something like that," he said as he pulled Klaus in again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the fish, and stuff! 
> 
> Except, well, I'm not going anywhere. I have three or four more oneshots already written for this universe alone, and a few others in the works (what's that? A totally self-indulgent "Klaus and Diego living their best lives and having to return for their Dad's funeral"? Nooo. And if that doesn't entice you... what about "Detective Hargreeves keeps encountering this annoying weirdo at his crime scenes--and Diego absolutely, 1000% does not think he's cute, nope, nosiree!"). And look, yes, I should be working on my thesis but, like... *gestures vaguely*
> 
> Anyway. Thanks for reading, and all that jazz! If you liked any lines in particular, you should like, lemme know. :) Stay safe out there, friends!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/spikeymarshmllw) | [tumblr](https://spikeymarshmallows.tumblr.com/) | [dreamwidth](https://spikeymarshmallows.dreamwidth.org/)


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